


The Doppelganger Initiative

by DevinBourdain



Series: Ripples of a Reflection [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Character Death, Episode: s02e10 Mirror Mirror, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kidnapping, McCoy Whump, Mirror Universe, Post-Star Trek Beyond, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-11-06 01:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11025384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevinBourdain/pseuds/DevinBourdain
Summary: McCoy's life hasn't turned out the way he expected. Starfleet was a surprise & the Enterprise never fails to throw him curveballs but Yorktown should be safe. While Spock and he have never been best friends he certainly never thought he'd be kidnapped by the green blooded hobgoblin and have his whole life turned upside down. McCoy always knew the Vulcan would be the death of him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Star Trek characters are not mine, just borrowed for this story.  
> Warnings: language and violence.  
> Comments are always welcome and appreciated

A small frown crests McCoy's face as he squints at the PADD in his hand. The results of his latest test had proven unfruitful leading to yet another dead end in his current research venture. He flops down onto his living room chair, tossing the PADD down on the end table and reaching for his drink. The harsh bite of the alien alcohol shocks him and he stares at the glass as though it has betrayed him; it's hardly the brandy he had been dreaming about while hunched over his scanner all day in the lab. He looks over towards the counter and realizes he had been so absorbed in reading, his hand had grabbed the bottle Scotty had left a couple of nights ago, something he'd won at a poker game with members of the most recent trading vessel to dock at Yorktown.

Leonard's mood darkens a little more as he mentally counts the steps it will take to rectify his mistake, deciding that he is too exhausted to engage in the venture and the disposal of alcohol, no matter how heinous, is still a crime. He resolves himself to suffer through the glass and watch the rain as it streaks down the large window in his living room. Why a self contained station needs to have scheduled rain days is beyond him. Arguments that it makes Yorktown feel more like a planet and thus home aside, rain is always rather depressing and dreary. He leaves the lights off and lets the gentle patter sooth out the tension that has been building in his shoulders.

God help him, he's starting to miss the Enterprise. The people and maybe the ship itself, but definitely not traipsing around the galaxy, he mentally corrects himself. Being confined to a floating tin can means that no matter how busy you get, you still find time to socialize with your friends and coworkers; there is no escaping the crew on a star ship, same faces day in and day out. Here it's easy to get lost in the crowd and be consumed by opportunities and amenities only previously available on shore leave. With such a lengthy wait time until the new Enterprise is ready to head out into the vastness of space, the crew has been given assignments around the station to keep busy and sharp. For many it means family is within arm's reach and the social circles that didn't consist of fellow crewmen are easy to fall into.

For the first month the crew had banded together like the tight knit group they are, trauma holding them together like glue, but slowly they began to branch out, get busy. The senior staff made an effort to at least take a meal together ever few days but that eventually turned into once a week, then twice a month, once a month and now eight months into their thirteen month wait, McCoy can't remember the last time he's actually laid eyes on the senior staff. The only reason he knew they haven't finished the ship and left without him is the weekly 'meeting' they have which is nothing more than open comm. between the senior staff in which Kirk, Spock and Scotty give an update on the status of the new ship and review crew assignment at Yorktown.

He is just going to have to play dirty, McCoy decides, picking up his pad and scheduling physicals for the senior staff. "Let's see Jim cancel that," he mutters dropping the PADD back on the table. He knows his friend isn't intentionally blowing him off, Captain, with or without an actual ship, means he has a lot of responsibilities, now adding to that the rebuilding of the Enterprise and Kirk has cancelled their plans the last twelve times; tonight seems to be included. Usually Jim sends a message that he isn't going to make it but tonight he seems to be leaving Leonard hanging. Jabbing a few hypos in Jim's neck during his physical will probably make McCoy fell better about this latest trespass.

The chirp of door startles McCoy; the hypnotic flow of the rain must have caused Leonard to doze off. He sets his glass down, stretching the kinks out of his back as he glances at the clock. It is rather late for general visitors, meaning Kirk must have realized his mistake and come to grovel at Leonard's feet for forgetting their plans for a nightcap. He shuffles towards the door punching the controls a little harder than necessary when he arrives.

"Better late than never, I suppose," starts McCoy, his rant dying as he glances into the face of the Vulcan fist officer and not his tardy captain.

"Spock? I was expecting Jim. What are you doing here?" asks Leonard, confused. Things have thawed between the two men over the years warming up to a pleasant friendship after Altamid, though a visit at such a late hour without Kirk in the mix never happens. It's surprising but not entirely unwelcome after his recent isolation.

"Doctor, I have a matter of vital importance that requires your assistance," states Spock pushing past a dumbfounded looking McCoy.

Leonard's brain finally latches onto the unexpected turn of events, closing the door before turning towards Spock. Whatever has brought the Vulcan here must be important, Jim or Uhura are usually Spock's go to when he has a problem that isn't strictly medical based. Tilting his head to the side he takes a long look at his guest. It has been awhile since he actually saw Spock making his appearance somewhat surprising. It's not a drastic change, certainly nothing indicating a personal crisis brought on by their recent ordeal on Altamid, but seeing Spock with something McCoy would have assumed he'd find unpractical is kind of funny. "What's with the beard?" asks McCoy with a small chuckle as he passes by Spock to pour himself a drink. Any problem the Vulcan has at this at hour that he didn't summon McCoy about over official channels is going to likely require a drink. Just hearing the story behind Spock's new aesthetic is going to require the tranquil affect of liquor.

Spock turns sharply as the doctor walks past, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders and slamming him face first into the wall. The decanters, bottles and glasses on the table clink and rattle at the force. Spock leans against McCoy's back, his elbow presses firmly against the doctor's spine making it impossible for him to move.

Leonard struggles, despite the slight daze hitting the wall has caused, in a futile effort to shake off his captor. The whole scenario is ridiculous and unfathomable; Spock isn't openly violent with anyone in general but certainly not without reason. Alarm begins to sets in as Spock refuses to release him and McCoy knows, even on his best day when he isn't caught off guard Spock can best him in a physical altercation hands down. His communicator is sitting on the kitchen counter, too far away for him to get even if he manages to slip from Spock's grip. Anger begins to burn in Leonard as he shouts, "What the hell are you doing, Spock? What's gotten in to..."

The words cease as Spock places his hand on McCoy's shoulder and firmly and decisively pinches. The doctor goes limp, his dead weight entirely supported by Spock's grip. "I do not have time to discuss this with you, Doctor." Manoeuvring the unconscious form, the Vulcan heaves him over his shoulder and heads towards the door. He stops briefly as he catches his reflection in the mirror and his eyes trace over the doctor's slumped body. There's a brief hesitation but Spock remembers why he's here and taps the access panel to open the door. He will see this through; the doctor is just an unfortunate victim of circumstance. It' the only way to achieve his goal; the doctor's fate is unavoidable.


	2. Chapter 2

There's something familiar about the gentle buzz of background noise that manages to penetrate the thick darkness of Leonard's mind. It's comforting in its rhythm and there's a faint smell that's as welcoming to him as a warm peach pie coming out of the oven back home; he's in sickbay. While most people would find regaining consciousness on a biobed discouraging, McCoy finds reassurance at being in his natural habitat, regardless if he's the proprietor or the customer. There's a throbbing in his head and things are a little fuzzy around the edges but the last clear thought he has is drinking in his apartment at Yorktown so whatever has landed him here can't be all that horrific. After all it didn't involve former federation Captains hell bent on destroying peace and alien spacecraft.

McCoy cracks an eye open and groans as the light pierces his skull like a hot blade. It's a reminder to stay away from alien produced alcohol and stick with the good old fashioned stuff. He goes to throw his arm over his face and block out the vengeful accusation of drinking all night the world is throwing at him, when his arm refuses to move. There's a split second of confusion before alarm starts shorting out his brain. His breathing speeds up as his other arm produces the same results and his legs are just as useless. He can't even really turn his head as the harsh bite of leather digs in across his forehead and limbs as he tries to change position.

His eyes dart around wildly as panic grips his heart and tosses his stomach around like a soccer ball. The room is achingly familiar; Leonard knows every inch of it like the back of his hand but this can't be right, it's some kind of trick. He would never be restrained in his own medbay aboard the Enterprise. Out of the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of a familiar hairdo and turns his head as best he can, given the restraints, for a better look. He feels a little flicker of hope as he asks, "Nurse Chapel, what the hell is going on here?"

Chapel looks at him for a moment, a sweet smile playing at her lips before she grabs a try from the counter and brings it closer. McCoy's hope turns to dread as he looks at the tray and all the shiny instruments upon it. It's a practical smorgasbord of medieval barbarism. The nurse picks up an ancient style scalpel with a dangerous glint in her eye that matches the point on the weapon.

"I'm dreamin," huffs McCoy, clenching his eyes closed tightly and willing himself to wake up. This can't be anything more than a nightmare brought on by the horrid bottle of booze Scotty saw fit to pass off on him by way of a gift left on his door step. He'll swear off booze for the rest of his days if he just wakes up slumped in his chair in his oppressively lonely apartment.

The blood curdling scream that rips from his throat as the scalpel slices through his skin and muscles at the shoulder and digs its way under his collarbone, is more than enough proof that the nightmare is devastatingly real. Warm blood rises out of the cut and runs across his chest and side.

"Have you lost your mind?" he snarls through gritted teeth. His breath is rapid and panicked. There are so many things wrong with this, he doesn't know where to start. This cannot be his nurse, a woman he has worked closely with over the years, whose devotion to healing is as great as his own. This is a monster with a pretty face inflicting unnecessary pain on him not Nurse Chapel. He may have to retract his earlier thought about aliens not being involved.

Chapel jabs her thumb into the wound with a look of pure ecstasy, clearly enjoying every sound she drives from Leonard's lungs despite his best efforts to deny her her pleasure. "I always wondered what it would be like to have you under my knife. I've been itching to try out everything you've taught me. Tell me, is it as exquisite from the your end as it is mine," she purrs grabbing another instrument from the tray and jabbing it into the already gaping cut forcing it open so much the skin at the edges pulls and tears.

"This can't be you," wheezes McCoy. He wants to crawl away from the pain, curl in on himself, but the bindings won't allow him any recourse other than bearing it. Alien possession, mind control, spatial anomaly; there has to be something affecting Chapel that would cause her to do this.

This isn't the first time Leonard's been tortured. Serving on Enterprise under James T Kirk means being captured by aliens with less than wholesome intentions every now and again, but there's something more intimately terrifying when you know the person doing it. It's like they can cut deeper than a stranger. This is someone who should save him, not break him.

He can't help but watch Chapel's movements even from his limited view as she picks up a device from the tray and inserts it under his collarbone with a satisfied smirk. The monitor above him begins to beep as his vitals starts to climb out of the green and Leonard has a terrifying thought about how precariously close Chapel's hand is from some pretty vital arteries and organs if her hand should slip down a couple of inches. He can feel cold metal digging into him, sitting heavy on top of severed muscles and tendons. It produces its own kind of ache, amplified by the cold metal that seems to suck the warmth out of his chest making the tissue feel like it's shattering like ice.

The nurse grabs a needle and thread from the tray and begins to sew up the insertion site as though it was nothing more than a blanket in need of repair. It's a small mercy, she's closing the wound but without anesthetic or a dermal regenerator and the slow pace she's working that mercy seems anything but. When she's done, she changes her needle for something McCoy can only connect with a cattle prod; it's definitely not something he keeps in his medbay and certainly has no place in the hands of a healer.

"That's enough, nurse," comes a familiar voice in the corner.

"But," protests Chapel, looking like someone took away her new toy.

"You have performed your duty and may now go."

Chapel looks like she wants to argue but nods. She passes over a PADD to the person in the corner and walks away.

Pain is blurring his vision, slowing his thoughts and it's little wonder he misses the figure lurking in the corner before now. He almost wants to cry in relief as Spock starts to come into focus. "Help me, Spock," he practically begs, stretching his fingers towards his first officer. Spock is a life line thrown out into the sea McCoy's been cast.

Spock stands there just out of reach and says nothing. His fierce gaze rakes over McCoy with the same cruelty as Chapel's scalpel.

Leonard suddenly feels numb and very alone; betrayed. The Vulcan he knows would never standby and let a fellow crewman suffer needlessly. After Altamid, he's certain Spock wouldn't do it to him, and yet, Spock's making no move to help or reassure him. They're friends and even if the situation was twisted enough that Spock can't help him right now, he would at least offer comfort or some reassurance that it was going to be alright. The Vulcan standing over him is even colder than Leonard has ever accused Spock of being. Spock always comes off cool and calculating, hiding behind logic but this is a predatory viciousness hiding behind malice that promises more pain and agony for the doctor.

"Has everyone gone insane?" huffs Leonard and then he sees it. There's more off about Spock than just his unwillingness to help. The gold uniform is all wrong, as is the dagger tucked in the gold sash around his waist and the beard. He remembers Spock showing up at his apartment and barging in. He can feel the way Spock's elbow dug into his back as he struggled to get free. Attacked by someone he trusted with his life. Spock was wearing the proper uniform then but the beard was still there. Leonard's getting a bad feeling that he's come crashing through the rabbit hole. "You're not Spock, are you?" he asks in a small hesitant voice as though the answer will mean certain death. Regardless he'll still be dangling from the preverbal hook but it'll somehow be worse if this monster is the same Vulcan he dragged across the surface of Altamid, the one that held Khan down so he could extract the blood needed to save Jim.

"I am Spock," says the Vulcan with his usual clinical detachment. McCoy's eyes slid shut and the salty sting of tears starts to build up under his lashes. Betrayal cuts deep but this leaves him flayed right open. "I am just not _your_ Spock."

The statement sets off even more alarms in McCoy's brain and his eyes snap open. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Spock reads the PADD in his hand. "You _are_ Doctor McCoy." There's a satisfied twinkle in his eye as though McCoy's identity had been in question at some point.

"Well of course I am, who else would I be?!" shouts Leonard, pulling even harder at his restraints. "And what the hell is going on around here?" He's tired of not getting answers, of being ignored by everyone lately.

Spock or 'not your Spock' leans over McCoy and begins undoing the restraints that hold the doctor down. As Leonard gingerly sits up, mindful of the wound across this chest, rubbing his wrists, Spock says, "James Kirk has demanded Doctor McCoy in exchange for the return of one of my crew. Since Doctor McCoy was killed in this universe, I intend to offer you to Kirk instead."

Leonard's convinced he's suffered a massive aneurism impacting the speech processing parts of his brain because nothing about that explanation makes sense or sheds light on what's happeneing. Spock throws McCoy his missing shirt and he fumbles to get it on without jostling the recently stitched hole in his chest. "Your crew? This universe? I'm not dead," he mumbles. Oh lordy, how'd be get himself into this one. His hand comes to rest over the aching wound on his chest as he glances around a room he could easily mistake for his home if not for the butcher happy nurse and eerie Vulcan that radiates cold death so intently it makes Leonard shiver.

"I have brought you from an alternate universe here to my ship the ISS Enterprise. James Kirk is a renegade who believes he should have been given captaincy of the Enterprise. When his coup failed to make him captain over me, he and Doctor McCoy fled to raise forces of their own. During one of our many encounters, I was able to capture the doctor, however, Kirk was able to take a hostage of his own. Unfortunately the doctor died before I could complete the transaction, leaving me with little option but to find someone else to trade. Several years ago we had a transporter malfunction that switched members of our crew with that of another universe. In that universe there were copies of each of us. Logically it seemed the most likely means of finding someone to pass for our Doctor McCoy that could also pass any test Kirk performed."

Leonard tries to let the words settle over him but the enormity of it all is heart stopping. He desperately clings to the hope that there is some truth in what he's been told, if just to keep Spock and Christine from being _this_. Jim is the luckiest son of a bitch he knows and never fails to come through in the end, to save his crew and his friends but this? Jim would leave no stone unturned in the universe looking for him, Leonard's sure of it, but another universe? He is completely alone here. As evidence by Chapel and Spock, these people are not his friends. If their behaviour is typical of this universe, no one he knows is his friend here. "So you kidnapped me?" he sputters as his breathing picks up, panic pushing at the edges of his mind. He slides off the biobed and onto his feet to try and dispel the frantic energy building beneath his skin. "You have not right to do that!"

"Yes. And when we reach the appointed meeting place, I will exchange you for my crewman," says Spock with flawless confidence in his plan as though it's natural to cross universal boundaries and take people when it's convenient. "And I have every right. I did it, did I not?"

The fact that Spock sees nothing wrong with this horrible scenario makes Leonard panic even more. You can't just kidnap someone and pass them around and off as someone else for your own personal needs. Pain flares in his chest and the stitches through his wound pull tightly with his heaving chest. The whole situation is more than he can handle. Jim won't be able to find him and he lacks the scientific and engineering knowledge to even attempt to send himself back. He's a doctor damn it. The whole thing is terrifyingly unfair. "You can't do this you pointy eared..."

His volatile protest comes to a crashing halt as pain fierce as a white hot poker being run through his body brings him to his knees. The epicenter of his agony is the device lodged underneath his collarbone, too deep for him to claw it free from his body but he tries anyways. It feels like he's drowning in a sea of pure agony and he can't break the surface to catch his breath, not matter how hard he tries. He screams himself hoarse in a matter of seconds and just as he prays for merciful death, it stops. The pain is gone but he's still a writhing mess on the floor.

"You will cease making noise," says Spock casually, stepping towards the pile of Leonard on the floor. He kicks McCoy over on to his back. "It appears your insistent chatter is universal. If you're not careful doctor, your mouth will get you killed again."

If looks could kill, Leonard would be a murder right now. As he tries and calm his frayed nerves all he can do is glare at the devil, pointed ears and all, standing over him. "What the hell did you do to me!"

Spock raises a stern finger in warning. "You will address me as Captain. If you fail to do so or follow any other command I give, you will suffer the agonizer I've had Nurse Chapel insert. Should you try and tamper with it, it will turn on and stay on until I arrive to disarm it. Is any of this in anyway unclear?"

"No," snarls Leonard. This time when the agonizer unleashes its ungodly pain upon him it lasts for only a second. It's enough, coupled with the expectant eyebrow of Spock's, to remind Leonard just how limited his options and recourse are. "No _Captain."_

"The agonizer is a marvellous invention that has done wonders for maintaining order and discipline within the empire. It only requires contact with the subject to work. Yours however is different. To ensure your cooperation from anywhere on this ship I have created a remote by which to activate it at my pleasure since it is permanently in contact with you. There is nowhere you can go to escape it. And you should know I have yet to use it past the first setting."

Spock grabs Leonard by the arm and hauls him to his feet. The grip is uncomfortably tight and there will undoubtedly be a bruise there tomorrow but Leonard doesn't fight it. He follows besides Spock as they leave sickbay and walk through the corridors. His steps are shaky and if not for his escort, he'd probably careen into the wall. Crewmen stop and salute Spock but none bother to even glance at Leonard. "Because of the device there is no need for guards. If you do anything that displeases me you will suffer the consequences."

They finally reach what will be McCoy's glorified prison and Spock shoves him through the doors. "This world is not like yours, Doctor. It would be wise to stay away from everyone, both for your sake and that of our deception. I suggest you get some rest."

The door closes and McCoy doesn't know if he should be relieved or terrified. To think he had been feeling miserable about not having anyone one's attention lately. Now he would give anything to be staring at a message from Jim saying he wasn't going to make drinks again.

McCoy stands there in the dark quarters like an idiot for what seems like an eternity. His brain can't even force his mouth to order the lights on at first, still stuck in the loop of what happened in sickbay. The incision in his chest hurts and he can feel the phantom pressure of Spock's hand around his arm still. Spock- that twisted thing is not Spock and yet he looks and sounds like Spock, even has the same cool logical detachment of his Vulcan but the first officer of the Enterprise would never allow what just happened.

Leonard's knees want to buckle. The air is suddenly too thick to breath. He chokes on it, unable to get enough to fill his lungs. "Computer... computer lights," he calls, desperate to illuminate the oppressive void he finds himself in. The room complies raising the lights to a warm comfortable glow. It's enough to for McCoy to find the bathroom. He makes it just in time to crash down in front of the toilet and expel the last dredges of alien alcohol that started his night off. Leonard's gut heaves painfully long after its empty and he curls up on the floor to let the cool tile leach the remaining warmth from his body.

A thousand thoughts race through his mind at warp speed. He's clearly on the Enterprise. He could close his eyes and still be able to walk around this room, this ship without incident. He hasn't been aboard the new Enterprise, so he has no idea how far along they are building it on the inside. The faces here are achingly familiar despite their cruelty and all he has is the word of his kidnapper that this is not his world. _An alternate universe;_ the very concept is insane and hard to swallow and yet he somehow needs it to be true. He clings to the idea that Christine and Spock couldn't be capable of such things even under alien or environmental influence, that this is some twisted funhouse mirror version of all the people he loves and cares about. They have an alternate version of Spock from the future for Christ's sake, anything is possible, but there's a small trickle of doubt that says Jim's going to come bursting in the door any minute to rescue him so he can start working on a cure for some anomalous gas that's been released on the starbase. At least that's a scenario he could find a solution for.

Adrenaline gives way to exhaustion and Leonard's eyes grow too heavy to keep open anymore. He's huddled in the fetal position in the bathroom with his back to the wall; it's the greatest illusion of safety he can give himself. His eyes close and he can't find the strength to open them again. Maybe tomorrow will make this nightmare fade.


	3. Chapter 3

There's an insistent voice in his ear, growing more demanding by the moment and pulling him from sleep's tight embrace.

"Spock to McCoy, you _will_ answer me," repeats the voice.

He can't imagine what that green blooded hobgoblin wants so early in the morning. It's not like McCoy has anything to do with the Enterprise rebuild and since they're not serving on the ship, he doesn't actually have to report directly to Spock for anything he's working on. Just because Vulcan's don't need much sleep doesn't mean over worked, brilliant medical officers don't. Leonard runs his tongue around his mouth before croaking, "McCoy here, go ahead Spock."

The jolt that originates in his chest and spreads out to every limb like liquid fire pushes him firmly and violently in to consciousness. He flinches so violently his head slams hard into the wall rattling his teeth. The pain is brief but intense, and serves as a very harsh reminder that the world is not as it should be. He's down the rabbit hole but there's no wonder in this land.

"You will respond to me the first time I ask, doctor," says Spock in his usual cold authoritative manner, like he isn't dolling out pain. "I have no desire to play any of your games. I expect you meet me in science lab five in twenty minutes or you will experience my displeasure."

McCoy's eyes snap open at the demanding tone of his first officer. As he slowly sits up on the bathroom floor his stomach drops. He doesn't need the reminder from his agonizer, the second he remembers where he is the incision aches and burns. He feels lost and alone, the entire universe far bigger and colder than it used to feel when he had friends in his corner. Morning was supposed to bring home and instead he's still trapped in his own personal hell. He can't help but feel a little betrayed by the universe.

When he manages to get upright there is a stranger looking at him in the mirror. He caught a glimpse of this person once before in the bathroom mirror of a seedy motel after an all night bender following the finalization of his divorce. He frowns slightly as he takes in his appearance. The uniform is all wrong. Someone has trade in his usual officer's shirt for a rank-less science top, complete with golden sash looped through his pants that don't quite fit the same way. The shirt's still blue but the shade is slightly wrong, like everything else in this place. He'd been too preoccupied to pay much attention to it yesterday. He tries not to think about who took such a liberty to undress him or when.

He doesn't want to step outside the door, to see what other perversions this place has to offer. The solitude of his gilded cage gives him the illusion of safety, even if Spock can reach him through the device lodged within his body. Defiance might be the only card he has to play in this no win game of Russian Roulette. Having one card means timing will be everything. Spock's summoned him like a dog and while Leonard's on edge and slightly terrified, he's not so far gone yet as to not remember this is an act of domination by the Vulcan.

What would Jim do if he were in this situation? He'd probably use that cocky swagger to saunter down the corridor, like he owned this Enterprise too, with the intent of using his charm to convince Spock to take him home. Leonard has neither swagger nor charm; he has stubbornness and a big mouth, both which aim to get him into trouble here.

One problem at a time, he tells himself. First he needs a better understanding of the situation. He can't just take Spock at his word, he has to find proof himself that he is indeed not in his universe. Though, he has to admit, things are stacking up in favor of the pointed-eared bastard's claim. It's not that McCoy really doubts were he's ended up, he just really wants it to be untrue, something more solvable with his skill set. Kirk would play the diplomat; go along with things until he had enough information to make a move. Taking a deep breath, he fortifies his nerves. He can do this. It's just one big mind fuck. All he has to do is not believe his eyes and listen to his heart. He will see his friends again.

The prospect of facing this nightmare is crushing and stubbornness is demanding he hold his ground and not capitulate to the whims of a mad man. He's never rolled over and shown his belly to Spock before; never once in all their years of mental and verbal sparring. But this isn't a fair fight. Spock has resorted to technological warfare. Having no desire to ever feel the agonizer again, he takes his first steps out of his new quarters and heads towards science lab five. He's never been afraid to step into one of the labs before but his imagination is determined to give him a heart attack, creating all sorts of doomsday scenarios. He's seen what's become of his sickbay, he doesn't really want to know what these people use a science lab for.

He can name ever single person he passes in the corridor, list their medical notes in chronological and alphabetical order but instead of warm friendliness, he gets nothing but cold glares and muted hostility. He squares his shoulders and keeps his head high. He will not show fear to these people who will probably devour him like piranhas if they sense one drop of doubt in the water. The daggers, secured at everyone's hip, except his own, speak of a bloody and violent history and it certainly helps sell the alternate universe theory.

The fist becoming intimately familiar with his face, comes out of nowhere; the swoosh of the opening door not enough time for Leonard to realize someone's there, let alone a threat. The attacker grabs McCoy by the shirt and holds him steady as he delivers another solid punch.

McCoy's vision whites out and tears stream down his face as the sickening and decisive crunch of his nose echoes in his ears. If it wasn't for the iron grip the attacker has on his shirt, Leonard would be sprawled on the floor.

"Think you can betray us and there wouldn't be consequences?" shouts a familiar voice in his ear, his breath hot against McCoy's cheek. He drives his fist deep into the doctor's stomach and loosens his grip to let the traitor slump to his knees.

McCoy gets a hand instinctively to his nose in a vain attempt to stop the blood that pouring down the back of his throat and down his chin. Blinking, he tries to clear the tears from his eyes and the blurry image begins to take the shape of Sulu. Not his Sulu. This one has a long scar running down the length of his face and cold malice in his eyes that McCoy's never seen a hint of in his normally happy and warm friend.

Sulu raises his leg and plows it hard into the doctor's shoulder, almost exactly where Nurse Chapel decided to flay him open yesterday. The force of the kick and the awakening pain in his shoulder topples him to floor. He's on his back, gasping for air, in a mess of his own blood. Things just keep going from bad to worse. "I have no idea what you're talkin bout!" he chokes out. It's a case of mistaken identity if ever there was one.

"Smuggling that renegade onboard to try and assassinate the Admiral and take the ship from the Captain, from me, isn't something I'm likely to forget!" rages Sulu undeterred by Leonard's passive ignorance. If anything it seems to enrage him more.

Sulu keeps kicking and all Leonard can do is try and bring his arms up to protect his midsection but even that does little good as he feels some of his ribs give in under the onslaught. "I swear to you, I didn't do any of that!" he shouts to be heard over Sulu's aggression, like innocence has any bearing on people here.

If he's going to die this way, it should at least be for something _he_ did. Okay, smuggling Kirk onboard is familiar, but certainly not for assassination. Jim saved the ship, saved them all and the federation. McCoy hacks up a mouthful of blood and spits it on the floor. "Sulu, you gotta listen to me," he tries, peering up at his attacker through rapidly swelling eyes. "It wasn't me."

Sulu just grabs a fist full of Leonard's hair and hauls him back to his knees. He switches to punches again and gets one more in before McCoy's seeing stars and his left eye is covered with blood. He pulls back for another blow, his fist in the air as McCoy pleads, "Wasn't me," over broken teeth and a bloody chin. A wicked smile spreads over his face in preparation for the satisfying crunch he'll hear as be breaks the doctor's jaw, but a hand wraps around his wrist preventing him from executing the finishing blow.

"Commander, you need to stop," instructs Chekov, still holding Sulu's wrist.

Sulu let's go of McCoy, allowing him to flop to the floor in a heap and uses his free hand to shove Chekov away. "Who are you to tell me what to do Lieutenant? I'm the First Officer on this ship and this could be an act of mutiny," he cautions.

The kid shakes his head furiously. "Sorry Commander." He moves to stand between Sulu and the broken man on the floor. "It's just you know what the keptain will do if he cannot trade the doctor back to Kirk." There's a slight tremor in Chekov's voice suggesting there's reason for everyone to fear Spock not just McCoy.

McCoy's never been so glad to see anyone before in his life. It's not the white knight he would have pictured, but if Chekov can curve the murderous helmsmen's wrath, he'll personally keep the kid in whisky for the rest of his life.

Sulu looks enraged but slightly fearful as he eyes McCoy lying on the ground. "Right." He spits at McCoy before turning to walk away, the glob of saliva mixing in with the splotches of blood decorating the doctor's shirt like a drip painting. "Another time, McCoy," he calls over his shoulder.

"Looin forward to it," Leonard slurs as he tries to get up without much success. He's getting to have some pretty bad ideas about just what kind of people live in this world and how short his life expectancy will be.

Chekov stands guard until Sulu is out of sight. "Eh, sorry commander," Chekov whispers in McCoy's ear as he helps him to his feet. "Are you alright?"

McCoy wraps his arm around his ribs protectively. "Peachy," he grunts, swaying a little as the corridor seems to roll and sway as though the inertial dampers are on the fritz. He can barely see and his nose is definitely broken but that's not his biggest concern. "I think he broke a couple a ribs."

Chekov winces in sympathy. "We were worried," he says in a hushed tone so as not to be over heard by the crewmen passing by, none of which seem the slightest bit distressed or concerned by what must look like a screen out of a classic slasher holo-vid. "Haven't seen you in weeks. We were beginning to think the keptain did something drastic." He places a firm hand on the doctor's shoulder to steady him.

Leonard is almost afraid to ask. "We?"

Chekov leans in extra close. "Is there a message you'd like me to pass on to Keptain Kirk?"

McCoy's taken aback by the sincerity and concern reflected in Chekov's eyes. The kid's always been sweet and helpful, eager to please and desperate to prove he can stand with the giants onboard the Enterprise. It's not something Leonard would have thought could survive amongst the likes of this Spock, Chapel and Sulu. It gives him hope. Maybe Jim will save him after all, this universe's Jim at least. McCoy shakes his head no; he has no message for now. What would he even say? 'Um, according to Captain Spock, I'm in another universe and I'd really appreciate it if you'd be so kind as to rescue me from this mad man and send me home? You know, for old time's sake, even though the McCoy you know is supposedly dead.'

"Come," says Chekov, gently guiding him down the corridor. "The keptain is waiting."

Leonard's stomach drops. He'd almost forgotten he'd been summoned by the sociopath. He holds his breath in anticipation of his agonizer going off for his tardiness, his heart pounding harder with each step he takes without new pain. He definitely couldn't handle that on top of Sulu's helpful parting gifts.

"Commander Sulu is still head of security," Chekov says conversationally as they shuffle down the hall. He holds a steady and sluggish pace, not rushing the doctor as he slowly begin to find a stride that doesn't make him waver and pitch forward in pain. "You mustn't get on his bad side."

Leonard's already learned that helpful tip the hard way despite having just met the man. He grits his teeth as each step causes his ribs to grind painfully together. "Does he even have a good side?" he huffs. He hasn't exactly seen the poster child for compassion and love on this ship yet.

"Keptain Kirk will be wery unhappy if you get yourself killed before the exchange."

"That'll make two of us," McCoy drawls, his accent coming out a little thicker.

"It would be a shame to waste this opportunity to get at Mr Spock." There's a deadly twinkle in the kid's eye.

McCoy stops in his tracks. Any comfort or reassurance he was feeling is slipping away like water through his fingers. He stops and looks Chekov dead in the eye. With painful realization he says, "Kirk's going to kill Spock."

Chekov looks serious, like Leonard has missed something. "The plan has not change."

Leonard's chest tightens even more. "The plan?"

"We are here, Doctor," announces Chekov, stepping through the door to science lab five. Spock glances up from his scanner as the pair walk, or in Leonard's case, hobble in.

Spock looks McCoy up and down cataloguing every bruise and drop of blood he didn't have the privilege of spilling before turns his attention to Chekov. "Is there something you would like to elaborate on Lieutenant?"

Chekov swallows hard, the sureness he exhibited in front of Sulu slowly vanishing. McCoy feels bad for the kid. He can't imagine what it would take to stand up to Spock in this world. The tension in the room is thick and Spock looks as though one wrong word out of the kid's mouth will give the Vulcan permission to eat him for lunch.

"I tripped," declares Leonard, "and the Lieutenant made sure I didn't keep you waiting, _Captain._ "

Spock looks through Leonard like he's nothing. McCoy doesn't expect Spock to believe the lie but it might deflect the attention off of Chekov. He's not looking to take the Vulcan's wrath but it's better than having to standby helplessly and watch the only person who's shown a sliver of humanity towards him experience the captain's ire.

"Dismissed Lieutenant," Spock orders curtly.

Chekov looks hesitant to leave the doctor there, but he salutes the captain and hurries out the door.

Once they're alone Spock asks, "Tripped?" he steeples his hands in thought. "I have never known you to be that inept." He looks almost amused, like a child poking at a bug under a jar.

McCoy's made it a personal mission to try and goad his first officer in to expressing a shred of human emotion, to sink to the level of those he serves with, and confirm, to not only the doctor but the rest of the crew sans Uhura, that there is a soul just beneath the murky waters of that green stuff Spock calls blood. These little flashes of emotion that flicker beneath this Spock's careful erected masks doesn't make the doctor feel good at all. If anything, it makes this Spock more terrifying.

"You don't know _me_ at all." He adverts his gaze at Spock's warning glare but adds because he just can't help himself, "Mighta helped some if I didn't trip into your first officer's fist."

"Commander Sulu is passionate but he has his uses. I suggest you stay out of his way." Spock points to an empty seat. "Sit," he orders before going to one of the storage cabinets at the back of the lab. McCoy follows the order and Spock comes back with a medical case in his hands. "Take your shirt off, Doctor."

Leonard makes no move to comply. Instead his hand absently rubs at his incision site. He knows he can't actually feel the agonizer under his skin, it's too deep and underneath the bone but he swears he can. "I've had my share of your medical treatment, thanks." He desperately needs medical attention because he knows all of the complications that will arise if he leaves his injuries unattended but this is a case of the cure probably being far worse than the ailment. They probably cut off a finger over a hangnail here.

His lungs seize as his muscles spasm painfully, molten lava running over every inch of his skin before crawling down his throat. Some undignified, inhuman sounding noise pries itself from his lungs before, just as suddenly as it started, the pain stops and he's left exhausted and panting.

Spock holds up a sleek black remote. "That was not a request, Doctor. You do not service my objective if you end up with a punctured lung, therefore I must provide you with medical attention."

Leonard can still feel his muscles twitching as he brushes his damp and bloody bangs off his forehead. Glaring out of the corner of his eye he watches as Spock opens the medkit for an Osteo-regenerator. "You don't normally provide people with medical attention," he grumbles barely loud enough to be heard.

Spock doesn't say it but McCoy can hear the word 'fascinating' echoing in his head. He's seen that look too many times not to have some phantom auditory response.

"Not what you would consider assistance," says the captain as be begins to run the unit over McCoy's ribs. Leonard keeps his eyes on Spock's hands, taking in every movement as they tend to the worst of his injuries.

The need for elaboration dances on the tip of Leonard's tongue but he's too afraid to ask the question. More specifically he's terrified of what has become of human compassion and decency in this world.

"Your federation is weak. It lacks the strength to do what needs to be done in order to conquer its enemies and maintain control over its empire. It is interesting that you've made it so far in space exploration without being enslaved yet," Spock says conversationally, like he and Leonard are debating the prospects of a newly discovered civilization back in class at the academy.

These people are so different from his friends, it's hard to imagine Spock is making idle speculation about what McCoy's life is like. It occurs to him that Spock needs a Leonard McCoy doppelganger, and that offers him a mild form of protection. It doesn't guarantee Spock wouldn't have laid a hand on anyone else in his universe. If he's hurt Jim, Scotty, Uhura, any of them, or more likely Spock himself, Leonard doesn't know what he'll do. "How do you know so much about me? My world?"

"I downloaded a large chunk of your database when I arrived in your universe. It would be illogical to have proceeded without knowing for certain if you were even alive in that universe or where to find you. I also needed to know what to expect from the people of your world. I can report it was rather easy to get what I wanted. I walked right in and took you from under the noses of the crew of the Enterprise and they didn't even notice."

That statement hurts more than anything that's happened so far. McCoy wants to argue that it isn't true, that the senior crew of the Enterprise is a tight group that would give their lives for one another but it hasn't felt that way in the last few weeks. For the first time he begins to doubt. It's only for a moment but there's a crack in their bond that's visible to the world now.

Spock finishes healing the broken bones, McCoy's nose included, but does nothing to tend to the bruised and batter tissue around them. He'll be black, blue and sore for a long time; a constant reminder of what this universe has to offer. There's blood caked into his clothes and drying on his skin, sticky and uncomfortable, turning everything a muddy brown color. He'd be a fright anywhere else but Leonard has a feeling it's probably a sign he got off lucky here. Slightly subdued he says, "You didn't punish me for being late."

"There is little that happens on this ship that I am unaware of," is Spock's only reply before he puts away the medkit. "Now thank me for my mercy," he demands, standing tall and far too close to the doctor to be anything but threatening.

The command claws at the back of McCoy's sweat soaked neck. Vulcan's see no logic in expressing gratitude or platitudes of any kind. He's argued with his Spock about it before. This is just another example of how devious this Spock is. Who ever thought he'd miss 'It's illogical to thank me for doing my duty, Doctor. But since you humans have a need to express gratitude I will accept your thanks.' Careful to keep his tone even, he says, "Thank you... _Captain."_

Spock takes a step back to a more comfortable distance, clearly appeased with the doctor's response. "You will make yourself useful while you are here doctor," he says like McCoy is some unwanted houseguest that showed up unannounced and is eating him out of house and home.

McCoy snorts. "I doubt there's anything I'd be willing or capable of doing that would benefit you." He's willing to sacrifice his dignity to survive but he won't become a savage like the rest of them. His soul is not for sale.

"You are a doctor where you come from, are you not?"

The question raises the hairs on the back of McCoy's neck; a chill creeping through his gut. "Yes," he says cautiously, though they both already knew the answer. "But I've taken an oath to do no harm. I'll die before I torture or kill someone for you. Since my death won't benefit you, I suggest we don't let it come to that." It's the truth, one he's going to uphold until his death if necessary.

Spock almost looks amused, like he does when Jim pulls out an especially brilliant yet reckless chess move that might turn the tide of the game only to have it fail in the end and logic rules the day. "Are you threatening me?"

McCoy shakes his head. "No Captain. Just givin ya fair warnin."

Spock smiles. It doesn't just look wrong because the Vulcan never smiles, though that's enough to cause concern in the doctor alone, but it's an evil wolf in a henhouse kind of smile that suggests the Vulcan has just found an interesting plaything to torture.

"I think you're more like your counterpart than you realize."

And doesn't that just make Leonard's skin crawl. "No need to get insultin." He hasn't really thought about who he is in this universe until now. Chapel's words roll around in his head and he thinks he never wants to find out who he would be without a soul. He's a cranky curmudgeon bastard already. What would that look like without any morals or ethics?

"You will be allowed to move around the ship provided you stay out of the way of ship functions and you can assist with research in the medical labs. Even your efforts to find cures can be turned into ways to further our goals. We might even be able to expose you to research and discoveries you haven't seen yet. Besides if you are seen alive and around the ship, Kirk's spies will report as much back to him."

Leonard thinks quickly of Chekov and his offer to relay a message to Kirk. Spock apparently doesn't know _everything_ going on on his ship or he'd know specifically who those spies where. If he's going to even try and get himself out of this mess, he does need access to the ship. And who knows, maybe he can find away to do some good in this world of evil. It sure would beat languishing away in his quarters waiting to be bartered for. It's probably a mistake but he has to take the risk, choose the danger to gain the reward. "Alright." He can't help but feel he just made a deal with the devil.


	4. Chapter 4

McCoy ignores Sulu as he steps outside of the lab, heading in the other direction towards sickbay. The first officer is just leaning against the wall, glaring at people as they pass by like a disgruntled teenager waiting for an after school fight, but Leonard's not going to give it to him if he can help it. It's bad enough he's sporting the colorful quilt work Sulu gave him, he's not going to stand there and let the man take in his handiwork like a statue on display. He braces himself for what could potentially be round two but Sulu doesn't seem interested in a fair fight, letting him walk away without a word. Somehow, it doesn't make him feel any better about the situation. Sulu's just one more element he'll have to navigate while walking this incredibly thin wire.

The first thing Leonard does when he's safely tucked away in a back office in sickbay, far away from the sadistic and leering gaze of Nurse Chapel, is access the ship's computer. He's been granted access for research purposes so his restrictions seem minimal. He doesn't care about their medical advances, there's more pressing information Leonard needs to find.

The information on Spock is lengthy and sordid. He earned his captaincy during the battle of Vulcan in which Nero was crushed before destroying the planet. He not only defeated Nero, but assassinated one of the Admirals in charge of the battle. The assassination promoted Christopher Pike to Admiral leaving room for Spock to step in as Captain of the Enterprise. Things just get worse from there. The Enterprise is the empire's flagship not because of it has the best and brightest but because it's the bloodiest ship in the fleet. They've conquered and destroyed all at Spock's whim, spreading the terror and fear that lets the empire rule.

It's clear Spock should not be underestimated and there are no depths he isn't willing to traverse to obtain his goal; as if that wasn't obvious already by the alternate universe kidnapping. What Leonard can't figure out is why he's so admit about exchanging Leonard for Kirk's prisoner. There's no record he can find of anyone missing from the crew. Everyone is either present and accounted for or certified dead. And empire policy doesn't look kindly on those incompetent enough to be captured by the enemy or likely to negotiate for anyone's release, so who is it Spock needs to get back badly enough to go to all this trouble?

The information isn't entirely surprising. The contact he's had with the Vulcan has painted a pretty clear picture of what he's dealing with, but this just makes it more real somehow. There's no denying he's in another universe and these people who look so familiar are anything but. McCoy figures if there's one universal constant in existence it's probably Jim Kirk. If a crazy future Romulan couldn't deny Jim his destiny, he might be above evil incarnate too.

Kirk's file is like watching a shuttle crash. You know it's going to be bloody and deadly but you can't look away. Leonard can't stop reading, not after the first atrocity, the second or the thirtieth. The thought of Jim Kirk with that kind of blood on his hands makes him want to cry. Jim fights for the helpless and stands up against injustice but here, his best friend is a tyrant who slits throats as easily as his flirts with any woman that catches his eye. His Jim is a survivor of a massacre at a very young age, not the architect of one.

The disappointment in learning that Jim is the devil hurts like a physical blow, and he's had many recently to compare it to. The horrors cut through him down to the bone as denial bubbles up like blood, spilling on the ground. It has to be a lie; his best friend can't be a monster here. Jim's a god damn hero, one even death couldn't stop.

This is the man whom Spock is going to hand him over to. If they're as good friends in this universe as they are in his, Kirk is going to see through McCoy very quickly and he can only imagine what the wrath of Kirk will be upon him. He's horrified at what kind of a man Jim is here and knows he won't get any help to return to his universe from Kirk. The only one to cross Kirk and not end up in pieces scattered across the galaxy is Spock, leaving Leonard between a rock and a hard place. He's going to die painfully and bloody. The only question is, at whose hand it will be?

If ever there was a time to drink, it's warranted now. He isn't in the CMO's office, that position belongs to someone else here, so he can't even check to see if he has the same stash here as he keeps in his own office. He does remember the combination to Chekov's locker though, which might require a visit and the liberation of whatever this Chekov drinks.

McCoy plunks away at the formula Chapel gave him, careful to make it look like he's trying to make a breakthrough in the breakdown of the compound while being incompetent enough to produce no viable results. It's enough of a distraction to take his mind off where he is but not enough to erase the bloody picture Spock and Kirk's files have created. Fear curls around him like a snake slowly squeezing the life out of him at the thought that he might never be able to look either his Spock or Jim in the eye again, if he ever gets home. What happens if he can't see anything but these mirror counterparts anymore?

Curiosity, maybe it's actually insanity, eventually gets the better of him, even though he knows deep down nothing good will come from looking, but he types in his own name. It's like a ceti eel chewing its way through his brain demanding curiosity be satisfied. It's a moment of bravery he wishes he could take back. Spock and Kirk aren't the monsters here, he is. Their evil is based on power and survival, McCoy seems to do his out of pleasure. It's a life devoted to perfecting the art of torture and pain in the same manner Leonard has devoted his to healing and finding medical breakthroughs that will benefit the universe. He's responsible for no less than twenty-three plagues, five series of infections that leave the victim dependant and addicted to the counter agent for life, empire interrogation practices and the death of his wife. Jocelyn got the whole planet in their divorce but here he got her life. What kind of a man kills his wife in front of his daughter to teach the consequences of cheating on one's husband?

He can't even finish reading the details of his work before he's crashing to the floor, his knees taking the brunt of the abuse and retching. He can't stop, can't shake the mental imagines he's come up with long enough to stop throwing up. Beads of sweat collect on his brow as his stomach starts to cramp in protest. He feels like he can't breathe. His heart is pounding is his chest, attempting to escape and run from this hell he's been sent to. Tears roll hot and heavy down his cheeks as his arms start to shake, no longer able to hold him up anymore. Collapsing to the floor, he can't even find the energy to roll out of his own vomit.

Jocelyn was horrible during their divorce and even worse during their custody battle if that's what he can even call it, but he can't imagine killing her. In front of Joanna no less. Somewhere out there is his sweet little girl and it makes him sick all over again. This is hell, pure and simple. If he's capable of any of the things the files claims he has done, then he more than deserves everything that happens to him here.

* * *

Spock summons him to breakfast the next morning and McCoy just sits quietly staring into oblivion. He probably looks a wreck. His skin looks like black and purple marble work, coupled with a weariness his limbs can't shake. He didn't sleep at all yesterday; too afraid of what nightmare he'd get stuck in after learning all about what kind of man Leonard McCoy was. Raiding Chekov's locker didn't help either. He can add self-inflicted hangover to his ailments. Bags and bruises hang under his eyes and barely healed cuts cover his face like sacrificial tattoos. He can't even bring himself to force food down his throat. The smell alone is threatening to reduce him to a heaving mess yet again.

"I trust you slept well Doctor?" Spock asks before taking another bite out of his meal. It's polite conversation in the captain's private dining room, complete with fine china and scones, like Leonard is some honored guest and not a prisoner shackled to a sadist.

It's not even a real question and the answer is carved into his being, visible to the world. McCoy can hear the condescension and derision in his voice. His stomach rolls just thinking about his counterpart's past and he drops his fork to the side, unable to poke at his eggs any longer.

"Your counterpart was on his way to becoming a shining star within the empire had he not defected with Kirk," pokes Spock. There's almost an undercurrent of pride in Spock's twisted praise.

Leonard really doesn't want to talk about it. It isn't surprising that the captain knows what he was up to yesterday. He imagines he can't even take a breath without Spock knowing about it. The whole thing has left him numb and empty as if it were his hands that performed the deeds of this man. In a way they did. He'd just never thought he was capable of such things before. "He was a monster." The statement sounds hollow and lifeless to his own ears.

"He was one of the best torturers and interrogators of his generation. It is an unfortunate loss." Spock almost sounds like he's genuinely sorry McCoy's reign of horror has ended.

Morbid curiosity gets the better of McCoy. Apparently the punch to the gut yesterday wasn't enough because he asks, "How did it happen?" His voice is haunted, like he's asking to see his own body, barely above a whisper.

Spock raises one eyebrow as though he's delicately considering the best way to phrase his answer. "Admiral Pike got a little over zealous in his punishment."

"Pike?" Somehow he pictured his death at the hands of Spock. The Vulcan just exudes that kind of superiority, like he's personally had his hands around McCoy's neck as the light left his eyes. Hearing Pike had a hand in his death sends a chill down Leonard's spine. There's a certain poetic symmetry to this turn of events. He once held Pike's life in his hands, uncertain if he could save the captain or not after Nero and here Pike had the doctor's life in his hands, though the outcome appears to be vastly different.

"The Admiral does not take insubordination well," he says like someone talking about another's color preference.

It turns McCoy's stomach. He swallows trying to push down the queasy feeling that's taken up residence in the back of his throat. Throwing his napkin over his uneaten meal he mumbles, "I have things to work on if we're done here." It's the closest he can get to asking permission to leave the table to do his homework.

"You may leave," concedes Spock. "Nurse Chapel will be waiting for you. She has some samples she requires an extra set of hands examining."

Leonard keeps his eyes down as he gets up from the table and hastily makes his way to the door. He has zero desire to participate in the day but he can't stomach engaging in conversation with Spock like they're old friends. At least in sickbay he dose himself with something to kill his hangover.

* * *

Sickbay is actually busy when he walks in. All eyes land on him as he enters, familiar faces glaring at his presence to remind him he's surrounded by nothing but strangers. Normally he feels confident in medbay but now he feels like he did taking his first shift in the emergency room back in Georgia fresh out of school and still finding his legs.

"Over here, Doctor McCoy," calls Nurse Chapel, arms crossed with a scowl like she drew the short straw in the 'who has to babysit the problem child' draw. She waits until he's walking towards her before she turns and heads towards one of the consoles at the back of sickbay.

Leonard sits down at the computer when prompted keeping a wary eye on the steady stream of patients that seem to be flowing in and out of sickbay.

"Annual blood samples and booster shots," informs Chapel, taping the screen over McCoy's shoulder and pulling up several files. "You get the honor of screening the results. I'm sure even _you_ can handle that," she sneers as she walks away to see to waiting patients.

There's an undercurrent to her dig that makes Leonard think she knows he's not the tyrant of before, that he actual has morals that don't approve of anything that takes place in this little shop of horrors. Whether that proves to be beneficial remains to be seen. At least she won't punish him for something his doppelganger has done.

He loses himself in clearing through the ever growing pile of samples to sort through. It's medical work that doesn't require him to go against his oath and something to keep his eyes and hands busy even if he can't keep his brain from circling around the depraved depths of what this universe makes of people. Hours pass, the time marked by the need to stretch out the building stiffness in his neck and shoulders.

He's tender to start with so trying to stretch out the newly formed kinks pulls uncomfortable at every inch of him. Things have settled to a dull persistent ache, a constant companion in this brave new world, vastly different from the first two nights where the agony was comparable to a white hot poker constantly digging at him. Leonard eyes the cabinet on the wall longingly. Back home it houses an array of analgesics, here he kind of doubts he'll find anything helpful in there.

A wheezing choking sound ripples through the general quiet workings of sickbay capturing McCoy's attention. He searches biobed after biobed of patients waiting for a nurse to jab a hypospray into them when his gaze stops at the second to last bed. Ensign Marley is slumped to the side, hands frantically clawing at her neck as she desperately tries to suck in air. Both patients and medical staff a like pay her little attention, going about their business like someone isn't slowly suffocating next to them.

Leonard's on his feet and rushing to his patient before it's clicked in his brain to do anything. He snags a tricorder off the instrument tray by the next biobed and begins his scan. Gently he lays the ensign down flat, offering her a reassuring smile. It does nothing to calm her down. If anything, it causes further panic once she realizes it's him. The reading that comes back is no surprise, allergic reaction, and as he pulls the empty cartridge out of the hypospray that was used to give her a booster, his suspicion is validated. She's allergic to this family of immune boosters, something he highlighted at the top of her medical file personally.

"Ok, we're going to get this cleared up. You'll be able to breathe properly in a couple of seconds darling," he sooths as he fumbles through the hypo cartridges on the instrument tray.

A hand wraps around his bicep pulling him harshly to the side. It comes as such a surprise, he doesn't have time to put up any resistance, going with the force of being yanked away until he ends up pinned against the wall. An arm presses against his throat, stilling any effort to break free as Leonard stares helplessly at his wilting patient.

"What do you think you're doing?" demands the voice next to McCoy's ear.

Leonard blinks, turning to look at Chapel whose free hand is wrapping around his to try and pry the hypospray free. "She's having an allergic reaction," he wheezes. Time is a critical factor here. If he can't reverse the swelling Marley is going to suffocate. "She needs an antihistamine."

"That's not how things work here," she warns, her voice lowered to be only heard by him but no less threatening than before.

He doesn't give a damn how things work here, Ensign Marley is dying no more than a couple of meters away from him and he has the ability to save her life in his god damn hand. He fights harder to escape Chapel's hold. Under other circumstance he's admire just how strong his nurse is given her delicate appearance but now it's a detriment to him offering medical assistance. "I can save her."

She throws more of her weight into her hold, slamming McCoy back against the wall. She whispers in his ear, "That isn't what Dr McCoy would do."

Leonard's heart skips a beat as his blood runs cold. He slides his eyes from his patient back to Chapel. It's written all over her face; she knows exactly who he is.

"You will start playing the part, Doctor," she warns.

He doesn't hear anything else. The biocensor above the bed starts to wail as Marley stops breathing. Chapel doesn't let go but she does manage to free the hypo from his grasp. He stands there, helplessly counting the seconds until he reaches the point where there's nothing he can do to help the ensign. It's only when one of the nurses is pronouncing time of death, does Chapel step back, letting McCoy sink to his knees amongst murmurs and whispers by the other crewmen watching the scene play out.

"Back to business," shouts Chapel as she walks back to her patient like nothing happened.

The image of Ensign Marley lying lifeless on the biobed starts to blur behind his tears but he refuses to let them fall. He feels rudderless in a raging storm. He was so close and the answer so simple, she needn't die. He hugs his knees to his chest, replaying it in his head over and over again. He should have been faster. He should have seen Chapel coming. He should have just given Marley the antihistamine before the tricorder confirmed his suspicion. He should have saved her.

He shouldn't even be in this fucking universe to start with!

McCoy turns and punches the wall with a ferocious roar. Everyone stops what they're doing and looks at him, but he doesn't care. A satisfied smirk appears as he watches blood well up over his knuckles, pain radiating through his hand and up his arm. It's good pain this time, cleansing pain that burns out all the despair and helplessness that has taken root in soul.

Leonard doesn't know how long he sits there, can't really bring himself to care, when Chapel comes to stand in front of him. Sickbay is empty now and eerily quiet. It's just the two of them but somehow it feels claustrophobic.

"Your hand's bleeding. Probably broken," she states.

There's definitely damage to his hand, the tool of his craft that he isn't allowed to practice here. That's the thing about challenging a wall to a fight, it always wins. He can feel the broken bones beneath the swelling that's been steadily increasing. "What does it matter? What do you care?" His voice is hollow, a fragment of his usual grumpy rumblings.

Chapel lets out a long put upon sigh. She doesn't have time or desire to deal with a sulking petulant child. "Sit over here," she snaps, making it very clear it's not a request to get off the floor and sit on the biobed.

McCoy does it, still lost in the fog of failure to really think about going against orders. Whatever she has planed, it's nothing he doesn't deserve for failing Marley. She was a sweet young girl whose first assignment was aboard the Enterprise a mere week before Altamid and Krull saw fit to destroy the ship.

He watches Chapel's movements through a haze and it takes a surprisingly long time for his brain to realize she's healing his hand. He should be grateful for the act, something reminiscent of kindness in an otherwise bleak world but it only breeds fear. "What are you doing?" The question even sounds dumb to his own ears, it's very clear what she's doing, it's the intent that baffles him.

She rolls her eyes like he's especially stupid but grumbles, "Repairing the broken bones."

"Why?" It's a trap and Leonard just doesn't have the energy to play these games anymore.

"Captain Spock needs you alive."

"Won't die of a broken hand." A broken heart and hollowed out soul, probably, but the hand won't hinder anything Spock has alluded to.

"Kirk won't take too kindly if you're too broken. He'll probably take his anger out on Uhura and the Captain won't have that."

Leonard has to roll the words around in his head a moment before he waves his free hand over his body to highlight his treatment so far, because really, a broken hand is a drop in the bucket at this point. He has a device inserted under his collar bone to inflict pain at Spock's whim, suffered broken ribs, probably a concussion and looks like he went twelve rounds with the current heavy weight champion of the alpha quadrant and she's worried about how a broken hand will look?

"A doctor needs his hands," she adds, like that explains everything. "If we take away your livelihood, Kirk will do the same to Uhura."

Uhura; there it is again. He thought he imagined her name the first time. Jim has Uhura hostage and Spock wants her back. Well that explains a thing or two. Maybe there are some universal constants after all. Who would have thought the Vulcan would go to all this trouble for love. Worse, who thought Leonard would end up in the middle of some messy Romeo and Juliet scenario that involved Spock. Jim... _maybe_. Not everyone takes too kindly to Jim's love 'em and leave 'em motif, but Spock?

His conclusion must be written on his face because Chapel says, "You won't ruin this for him," like some sort of best friend giving the new love interest the shovel talk, only it's not coming from a best friend.

Leonard tried to not let his jaw hang open. "You love him." He looks her dead in the eyes. She tries to hide it but it's there, clear as day. "Even though he's in love with Nyota?"

"One day he'll see who really loves him, who'll stand by him no matter what. Uhura takes too many chances, one day it will work in my favor and when Captain Spock is grieving her loss, I'll be there." She says it with such confidence, like it's only a matter of time before he comes to sickbay to sweep her off her feet.

Honestly they deserve each other, McCoy thinks; one psychopath to light the match, the other to take it and make the world burn. He has no idea what Uhura is like here but he can't see her competing with Chapel's malice.

"If people think you're weak, even Kirk's spies, they'll kill you, as payback or a power move. As much as I'd like to be the one to do it, Spock wants you alive, so you need to stay alive."

"What did I... he do to you?" McCoy asks because the hatred that runs through her is so deep and embraced it can only be born from horror.

Chapel turns around and Leonard thinks he isn't going to get his answer, when she reaches up to unzip her dress. It falls off her shoulders, exposing her back and McCoy has to bring his newly healed hand up to cover his mouth so he doesn't throw up. It's a Jackson Pollock of chemical burns and poorly healed scars.

"Christine," he breaths, "I'm so sorry." His fingers hover above her back, afraid to touch but needing to examine and prescribe treatment. He doesn't have the words to express his sorrow for what's been done to her or the rage he feels at who would do such a thing.

She pulls her zipper back up and squares her shoulders before turning back around, fire burning in her eyes. "I don't want pity, least of all yours."

"If you let me, I can try and fix it," he offers. He genuinely means it, not just because he took an oath to help people but because it's the least he can do to try and right this wrong.

Chapel takes a step back, cold as steel. "You'll never touch me again," she hisses, like she can't see the difference between him and his counterpart any longer. "The Captain expects you for dinner. You need to leave if you don't want to be late."

McCoy slowly slides off the biobed, flexing his newly healed hand. For someone who tortures people, Chapel does good work repairing damage. He nods his thanks and quietly leaves sickbay. There's no doubt Spock has heard what happened today and Leonard's dreading the lecture he's sure to get.

"Come on, Jim. I could use a rescue anytime here," he whispers to the universe.


	5. Chapter 5

 McCoy get’s curious glares, on top of the usual looks of contempt, as he walks to sickbay today.  Word about yesterday seems to have spread and the odd snippets of conversation he picks up suggest he’s either lost his edge, the father of Marley’s illegitimate love child or created some new form of torture so insidious it’s ingratiated him back into the good graces of the empire and needed Marley to live so he could demonstrate the results to the admirals.  The latter seems to carry more weight amongst the crew especially when coupled with the captain seeing fit to punish him for his failure to preserve the results to explain the visible hand print around his neck and the black bruise blossoming across his jaw.  Leonard works his jaw back and forth trying to get the clicking to stop whenever he moves it.  He has to hand it to Spock, the Vulcan has quite the backhand.

He’s barely set foot in sickbay and Chapel’s already shoving a tricorder and PADD into his hands with her usual irritated expression at his presence.  “Congratulations, Doctor, you’ve been promoted to actually seeing patience today and clearing out our backlog.”

“Oh goody,” he mumbles, taking up position at the last biobed.  Spock’s threat echoes in his ears.  _These are not your people, Doctor.   You’d do well to remember that._ This is a reminder that he might know the faces and the names of the souls assigned to him for their samples and booster appointment, but he does not know them.  What Spock fails to understand it that it doesn’t matter to Leonard if lives are on the line.  He’s never been one for politics or bullies for that matter, either.

He performs his duty with as little conversation as possible.  It isn’t hard.  Most people are afraid of him despite their attempts to appear otherwise.  They no more want to be within arm’s length of him than he wants to participate in this exercise of Spock’s control.  He doesn’t want to get to know anyone all that well anyways.  It just provides more fodder for his nightmares.

The rhythmic pattern of blood draw, immune booster then update file, gives him time to think.  If Spock’s plan is based on keeping McCoy’s origin secret to pass for the one in this universe then the means to travel to an alternate universe has to be something one or a handful of people can pull off; certainly not a ship wide venture.  This seems like something Scotty could probably work out if he was on board.  Unfortunately records show he sided with Jim in his little war with Spock and isn’t here to impart any technical knowhow on Leonard.  Scotty isn’t here but... the next name on McCoy’s list of patients is Chekov.

McCoy grabs his collection hypo and turns to face Chekov with a smile.  “Ensign Chekov,” he greets.  The kid seemed concerned about him when they first met, maybe Leonard can translate that into help.

Pavel stares at him like McCoy showed up to shift in just his boxers.  “Are you alright, Commander?” he asks with concern.

The smile falls from Leonard’s face.  Maybe it was a little over the top to try and convince Pavel he wants to have a casual conversation.  He’s not exactly rainbows and sunshine back home, here smiling like the Cheshire Cat probably means he’s about to disembowel someone.  He has to glance at Chekov’s file before he realizes his actual mistake.  “Lieutenant.  I meant Lieutenant.  Sorry, kid.”

Chekov fidgets on the biobed and looks like he doesn’t actually believe it was nothing more than a slip of the tongue.  He goes ridged when he notices the hand print around Leonard’s neck; a million questions dancing in his eyes.  Worse, his body’s going tight with all sorts of lines of aggression and protection.

The last thing McCoy needs is the kid trying to run interference between him and his abusers, which in most cases is Spock.   He doesn’t want that blood on his hands too cause while he’s sure Chekov shouldn’t be underestimated, going against a whole universe is hardly a fair fight.  “Hey, I got a mathematical problem for you, kid,” he starts, relieved to see the tension in Chekov vanish.  “It’s kind of a hypothetical if you will.”

“What is it?” Chekov asks, his eyes tracking the other people on the other side of the room.  He has that kid at Christmas look Leonard admires when he thinks he’s about to be handed a problem most people would consider hard.

“What would it take to travel to... say an alternate dimension?  I mean, is that a sling shot around the sun kind of problem or is there something simpler, something you can be surer about where you end up?”  McCoy can see the wheels in Pavel’s head turning.   Chapel’s looking their way now, and Leonard grabs his scanner to try and buy more time without raising suspicion.

“Are we talking about the transporter malfunction that switched the landing party with alternate versions of themselves?”  Chekov looks like he’s in the middle of a test and the teacher is about to accuse him of cheating.

“Yes?” says McCoy.  The transporter thing kind of rings a bell.  Something Spock mentioned when panic was still eating him and he was trying to get a grasp of reality.  Transporter malfunction, that figures.  He knew there was a reason he hated transporters. 

Pavel tilts his head to the side.  “There were unique environmental anomalies involved.  It was a one in a trillion accident.”

McCoy’s heart sinks.  “They couldn’t be recreated?”  Spock cracked the code but the Vulcan’s not about to tell Leonard how to get home; if he didn’t do it through the transporter, than Leonard’s well and truly screwed.

Chekov chews on his lip for a moment.  “It may be possible, if I had access to the original data from the incident.  In theory, environmental conditions could be simulated and manipulated if a specific target was desired.”  Chekov leans forward and whispers, “Is this something you’re working on for Keptain Kirk?”

“It’s something that’s going to be brought to Kirk’s attention,” says McCoy.  It’s going to be unavoidable once Spock hands him over and Leonard doesn’t live up to the hype that is the tyrant McCoy.  “What if I told you someone here, figured it out already.  Could you rig the transporter to send something or someone to the universe they were looking for?”

“I could find the data and make the necessary adjustments but it will take time, Commander.  I would have to send the information to you and Keptain Kirk later.”

That gives McCoy pause.  “Me and Kirk?”

“Yes.  We will be in shuttle range of New Vega in two days where Spock will meet for the exchange.”

Two days.  He had two days to try and figure a way out of this mess or just hope that Kirk has a better sense of humor than Spock about this whole situation.  “Alright.  Just get me the information as fast as you can,” urges McCoy, then louder for everyone to hear, “You’re all set Lieutenant.”

Chekov nods and jumps off the biobed, darting out of medbay for parts unknown.  McCoy slumps against the empty bed.  Two days is an eternity here but at the same time, not enough time to pull himself from the fire.  Chekov’s good but he has a feeling he just asked the kid to climb Mount Seleya with dental floss.  Leonard’s way out is going to come too late, and isn’t that just typical.

* * *

 

Sickbay dies down around lunch time, leaving just McCoy and Chapel alone.  He doesn’t have the stomach to go to the mess and eat anything, the latest blow zapping his appetite completely.  Chekov has pulled off his fair share of miracles, so there’s always a chance he could find himself transporting home before his date with the executioner, but Leonard’s always been a pragmatist.  There’s a black cloud hanging over his head and the forecast isn’t calling for sun anytime soon.

McCoy’s preloading a bunch of hypos for the after lunch rush when Chapel comes over and silently joins in.  It’s an awkward silence and he isn’t sure how to tread here.  Chapel knows he’s not who he’s supposed to be masquerading as; whether Spock told her or she figured it out, he isn’t sure but she’s probably his best chance to get any somewhat objective information he might be able to use. “So why did Kirk take Uhura captive?”  It’s blunt and straight to the point but he’s never really beat about the bush before and he has a deadline.

Chapel glares at him but doesn’t stop what she’s doing. “Revenge for marooning him on Delta Vega, mostly,” she says.  “Spock’s a Vulcan, it’s hard to hurt him but hurting Uhura... that gets the Captain all hot and bothered.  Only Kirk can’t have his revenge cause Spock grabbed you and if Kirk wants to see you again then he can’t lay a finger on Uhura.  Kind of ruined all Kirk’s fun don’t you think?”

McCoy snorts.  It’s a god damn pissing match he stuck in the middle of and she’s accusing him of getting shanghaied by the Vulcan for the fun of making life complicated.  “What makes me so special?”  He can’t really see anyone here going to all this trouble for friendship.  He could see Spock doing it for love.  Hell, he got a glimpse of that kind of love when Spock tired to strangle Jim on the bridge of the Enterprise after Vulcan was destroyed, but friendship doesn’t seem to be something that exists here.

“Everyone’s indebted to someone.  You and Kirk go way back; one always helping the other.  It’s a loyalty that’s seen the fall of worlds.  It’s also the million credit question of everyone’s list; what does Kirk have on McCoy and vice versa?”

It’s the first time McCoy’s really felt something kindred with his doppelganger.  He can’t picture himself not being hopelessly loyal to his Jim and despite Kirk’s best efforts to turn every hair on his head grey and give him a coronary, Jim’s loyal to a fault too.  What these two bonded over remains to be seen and it’s probably for Leonard’s mental health that he doesn’t see it.  “I guess we’ll never know now.”

* * *

 

It’s probably the booze.  Kidnapping, living in hell with people that constantly remind him of his friends but delight in torturing him and the countdown that’s ticking away in head, every second burning away the last two days he probably has left to him, might have something to do with it too.  It’s most definitely the booze and the fact that’s he’s trying very hard to drink this world away.  Alcohol poisoning seems like the least labour intensive way to kill himself here.  The only downside to mass consumption is the sentimental melancholy that’s spurring him on.

He fidgets uncomfortably in his seat, unable to find the words to make it right.  His eyes are red and puffy and he’s barely able to hold back the tears.  His voice is wrecked but the silence is stretching on and if he doesn’t say something, this is the last image he’s going to leave his little girl.  If she has to suffer his loss she doesn’t need the last image of her father to be some broken down soul that can’t even find the strength to say I love you.  He lets out a long breath and looks up at the camera, careful to keep his head angled down to try and hide some of the bruises and cuts.

“Hey baby girl,” he says with forced jubilation.  If by some miracle he can convince Chekov to send this recording after it comes out that he’s just some imposter that Kirk had to kill, assuming Spock doesn’t beat him to the punch, this is going to be the last time Joanna sees him.  This is going to be the memory and the keepsake she can pull out to reminder her of him when he’s missing all the big events of her life.  This is what she’ll take comfort from when she graduates and he’s not there to see it, when she starts dating and he isn’t there to threaten any suitors within an inch of their life if they make her shed one single tear.  He’ll just be some saved data file when she gets married or holds her child in her arms for the first time.

 His throat burns and constricts painfully as he tries to push the devastating loss from his mind.  He won’t be a sobbing mess that haunts his little girl.  He clears his throat and tries again.  “Hey hummin bird,” McCoy says gently, exposing his softer side the way he only can when confronted with Joanna’s big green eyes and heart bursting smile.  “I know you’re probably sad right now and I want you to know that’s okay.  I also need ya to know, you are the best thing I ever did hummin bird and I have never been prouder of all you’ve done or all you’re gonna to do.  Don’t let anything stand in your way baby, cause you are stronger than you could ever imagine, with the biggest heart anyone in this universe could possibly have.  I’ve known that since I first laid eyes on ya.  You were so small and perfect.  And whatever you do in life, through the good times and the bad, even though you can’t see me, I’m with ya baby.”

Leonard swipes at the unshed tears stinging his eyes with the back of his hand.  It’s definitely a good thing he has liquid courage driving him through this.  Two days isn’t enough time to say everything he needs to say to Joanna and he has even less than that to work with in a recording.  He twists his ring around his finger.  It should go to Joanna and be hers to pass down through the McCoy line.  It seems such a waste for the tradition to end here.  Just one more failure he can offer his daughter in a history of many.

“If you need anything, sweetheart, Uncle Jim will help out anyway he can. You’re going to be fine.  I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”  Leonard looks up at the camera and smiles, large and warm despite the way it pulls painfully at his split lip.  “I love you Joanna, always will.”

He taps the screen to end the recording and lets out a shaking breath.  It rattles his whole body down to his soul like a tornado pulling at the roof of an old barn.  He feels empty as though he just gave away his life essence and laid his soul bare for the universe to pick at his carcass.  It’s his own personal Kobayashi Maru and the test is seconds away from its damning conclusion with the same devastating result that everyone but the brilliant James T Kirk could garner. 

He just has one more thing to do because he can’t leave it with just a couple of notes accepting Jim’s apology for missing a few drinking nights.  He taps the record button again and starts a second message.  His edges are rougher this time, unable to put his fragile facade back together but he doesn’t need to put up such a brave front for this one; the deception wouldn’t work anyways.

“Jim, if you got this then maybe there is a shred of humanity here.  I’ve included a basic report of what happened, though knowing you, you probably figured it out already.”  It’s just the basics.  The who, why and probable hows, but no details about what it’s like for Leonard here.  Jim doesn’t need the details to build up his guilt.  Leonard was taken by an alternate version of Spock to ransom back for Uhura and was killed in the process.  None of them need to know about the blood spilled and the pain leading up to it.

A sad smile creeps across his face.  “I know it’s a crappy way to say good bye and all, but it’s all I got.  I know you tried your best to rescue you me so don’t blame yourself, kid.  Everyone’s gotta lose sometime and it’s probably better it’s now rather than when the great Captain Kirk is needed to save the galaxy.  More important than being Captain Kirk, I want you to know, you Jim, were a great friend.  I couldn’t have done it without ya.  You’re gonna do great Jim, just let that pointy eared computer you call a first officer look out for ya every once in awhile.”

McCoy looks at the scattering of empty bottles around him and thinks there isn’t enough alcohol on the whole ship that could make this next part easier.  His failure to get himself home is going to hurt a lot of people, most of all Jim and Joanna, the last two people he ever aims to hurt.  He has no right to add to Kirk’s burden, which despite Leonard’s insistence isn’t his to bear but Jim will anyways because that’s what makes him a great captain and friend.

“Just do me one favor, Jim,” Leonard starts, the tears coming unbidden now down his bruised face, “can you look out for Joanna me?  I know this ain’t some small favor and lord knows I haven’t been the best example of a parent to her myself but I need my baby to be alright, okay Jim?  I need to know she’ll have someone to go to.  Tell the crew... ah hell, I don’t know.  Make up somethin profound and tell’em I said it.  Take care out there, ya hear.”

McCoy saves the file and transfers it to a data chip before he can lose his nerve and delete the messages.  He puts it in his pocket so he has no excuse not to pass it off to Chekov next time he runs into the kid.  The weight is heavy against his thigh, a constant reminder that he’s just written his own epitaph.

There doesn’t seem to be a limit on his replicating abilities so he stagers to the replicator to get himself another bottle and drinks until the universe is drowned out by alcohol induced silence.  Two days left.  The thought burns through him creating a back draft effect that explodes outward as he picks up one of the empty bottles and throws it against the wall.  It shatters, spreading shards of glass out like a firework, the sound braking through his haze and brings the hum of the ship back to the forefront. 

It’s oddly satisfying; so much so that he does it again.  It becomes a weird game of catch with the wall that turns into how to make the shards spread out further and further while trying to hit the same spot on the wall. 

There’s something satisfying in being the architect of destruction; the piles of glass shards rippling across the ground like the northern lights of earth.  A broken laugh bubbles out of McCoy until he’s sprawled on the floor laughing like a lunatic.  This must be what has captivated the McCoy and Kirk of this universe and twisted them into the perversions that rain terror here.  Looks like Leonard has it within himself to be the monster after all.

That thought sours Leonard’s drunken stupor.  The line between man and monster removed, he finds himself no better.  He can’t even say he’s not a killer.  The motive behind his taking a life is greatly different than anything he could pull from McCoy’s file but the end result is the same.  He has blood on his hands too; his father’s and everyone he couldn’t save throughout the years.  He pulls himself to his feet and storms over to his piles of dust and shards.  In a sweeping motion he kicks the remains of his bottles sending the pieces scattering across the room.  McCoy lets out a roar as he continues to destroy any trace of his destruction masterpiece. 

The pieces spread around the room, little flecks to large chunks dotting the carpet and collection against the wall.  His shoulders slump and he’s a panting mess but somehow it feels better to have the evidence scattered. 

McCoy back steps to start to make his way to the couch when his foot slips on one of the glass pieces.  He flails for a moment before his drunken reflexes fail him completely and he crashes to the floor.  Trying to break his fall, his head still manages to clip the table on his way down and as his arm connects with the floor, he can feel the glass biting into his flesh.

Leonard blinks to try and bring the room into focus, ignoring the growing ache radiating from the back of his head, from his view on the floor.  The side of his face is pressed into the grimy carpet giving him an obscured view of the world and his right arm. His head is too heavy to lift and his vision is swimming.  The thing that does come in clear is the large jagged gash running down his arm and the growing puddle of blood collecting underneath it.

“That can’t be good,” he mumbles to himself before his eyes roll into the back of his head and then there’s nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like there should be some kind of warning for this chapter but that would involve spoilers. So if you're concerned the note at the end will give away what might be emotional for some people.

The world is bathed in red light.  It cuts through the darkness like an ax to McCoy’s skull.  He’s tired and not in a ‘a goodnight’s sleep will fix it’ sort of way but a bone weary, nothing left to give ache, where the simple act of existing is almost too much to bear.  The world is red and he toys with the idea that this might actually be the hell his grandma preached about during Sunday dinners back in Georgia; all fire and brimstone except he’s too cold for that.

An alarm flickers in his brain that wooziness, and feeling cold mean something but he can’t quite connect the dots until his eyes fall on the dark tacky puddle drying against his face and running towards his arm.  Right, alcohol and broken glass are a hazardous combination, he thinks as he assesses the gash in his arm.  It needs attention, especially since he doesn’t know how long it’s been bleeding while he’s been drooling into the carpet. 

He moans as the congealed blood finally let’s his arm pry free from the carpet, his other hand clasping hard over as much of the cut as possible while he cradles it gently against his chest.  There’s nothing here he can really use for anything more than a hasty bandage and even if he does that, Chapel and Spock will still find out what he’s done come morning.  For a moment he contemplates just laying back down and letting nature run its course.  It’s going to be the conclusion to this little adventure anyways.  At least this way he gets the last fuck you in his dance with Spock; can’t trade a corpse.  Wouldn’t that teach him for kidnapping some poor bastard from another universe to offer him up to what is undoubtedly and even bigger asshole, as a sacrificial lamb.     

The thought is fleeting though.  It isn’t in his nature to give up; not letting Jim stay dead is proof enough of that.  And there’s still some small un-killable part of him that wants to believe he just has to give Jim more time to find him. 

Leonard staggers to his feet, waiting for the vertigo to pass before grabbing a new shirt out of the dresser.  He wraps it tightly around his arm and heads for sickbay.  The flashing red light follows him and he blames the blood loss for not cluing into the red alert earlier.  There’s no alarm with the lights and the ship isn’t shaking like it’s under attack which means the ship is in preparation for something awful.  He rolls his eyes.  He doesn’t need to deal with tense people waiting for the world to drop out from under them.  These people are already on edge and prone to violent outbursts; this powder keg doesn’t need a spark.

There’s commotion in sickbay when he traipses through the doors.  A medical team is fluttering around a biobed near the back which is mostly blocked off by privacy screens.  There’s nonmedical personal standing watch over whoever is being treated.  Leonard can see snippets of Spock’s gold uniform through the cracks in the privacy screen.  Other than that he can’t really get a good look at what’s happening or who the patient is but he feels sorry for them.  This isn’t the place to be on death’s door.  McCoy wouldn’t be surprised if Spock had a deal with death himself; immortality in exchange for throwing extra souls its way.

He catches Chapel’s eye as she hurries to get something for the patient.  She frowns at his presence before scowling when she sees his wrapped arm and bloody shirt.  Passing off her supplies to another nurse, she marches towards him, her hand gripping his bicep painfully as she steers him towards a bed of his own.

“What the hell did you do?” she snaps, before starting to unwrap his arm.

“How do you know it wasn’t someone else?” he argues.  He shouldn’t, he should just take the scolding and hope is spares him something worse but the alcohol is still filtering his common sense and in its absence, his mouth tends to take over.

Chapel gives the ‘you have a brain, you should really try using it’ look before saying, “Anyone dumb enough to do this still would have been smart enough to finish the job.  Especially since you smell like a brewery.”  She grabs some disinfectant solution and pours it over McCoy’s arm.

It stings and burns and Leonard can’t help but hiss.  “Why don’t you rub some salt in it while you’re at it,” he barks.  His irritation is loud enough to cause several of the nurses to glance his way and Chapel cuffs him upside the head for drawing attention to himself.  “How do you know I didn’t win the fight,” he asks, trying to salvage some sense of dignity.  He can actually hold his own in a fair fight.

Chapel switches to a regen unit to seal the cut but forgoes any numbing agent or being gentle about it in any sort of way. “The only way to win a fight here is to kill the other person and you don’t have it in you,” she sneers.

McCoy keeps his eyes on what she’s doing.  Chapel may have a vested interest in keeping him alive to appease Spock but revenge is never to be underestimated.  “Let’s hope we never have to find out,” he says, though it doesn’t come out as much of a threat as he’d like.  This place has a way of getting to a person.  It crawls deep under the skin leaving a slimy trail where ever it goes and an itch that can’t be satisfied without blood.  Leonard’s not sure what lines he won’t cross anymore if it meant getting away from these people or getting home.

Alarms start blaring in the back and urgent sharp voices begin shouting familiar orders.  McCoy only half listens, trying to stomp down the urge to step in and help.  His fingers twitch and his heart pounds in his chest, the only thing actually keeping him away, the firm grip Chapel has on his arm.

“Finished,” says Chapel curtly, throwing a towel at his face.  “Clean the blood the side of your head and get the hell out of her before he sees you.”

“What happened?  Who is...”  McCoy starts to ask as Chapel is literally pushing him towards the door.  These people like torture, especially trying to break him.  She should be offering him a front row seat to what horror show is taking place behind the screen not trying to get him out of sickbay.

“Before _he_ sees you,” she emphasises through clenched teeth.

“Who?”  Leonard strains his neck to try and see back into the room.

“Doctor McCoy,” comes a voice from the back.

It’s firm and commanding and Leonard would recognize it anywhere.  Both he and Chapel stop dead in their tracks.

“Just the man for the job.”  Pike has an evil smile on his face as he beckons  McCoy over.

Chapel changes direction and shoves him towards Pike.  Spock’s eyes dart between Leonard and Pike, concern openly displayed on his face.

“Back from the dead I see,” says Pike, his eyes assessing the doctor.  “Spock what else are you keeping from me?” he asks.

“The wounds were able to be treated and the doctor revived,” states Spock, his posture is stiff as he stands at attention.

“I must be losing my touch,” says Pike with a chuckle.  “Looks like it’s to our good fortune tonight.”  He grabs McCoy by the arm and escorts him behind the curtain.

Pike’s presence is like a weight around McCoy’s neck, the proximity making him uncomfortable.  The man has Spock under his thumb, that fact alone is enough to make him shudder.  Pike wraps his arm around McCoy’s shoulder as they approach the biobed.  “You’re friend Kirk did this.”

McCoy’s seen his share of blood and gore and while it never gets easier he can push it aside to do his job, blocking it from his mind forever if he’s lucky or just until he’s saved his patient if he’s unlucky.  This makes him want to throw up.  The horror is amplified by the fact that no one is actually doing anything to help the man writhing on the bed, just doing the basics to stabilize him and continue his torment.  Lieutenant Kyle is torn open by a true sadist.  Leonard can tell the difference from what the medical team has done to keep him alive and the vile artistry that went into torturing and gutting him.

“Kyle here was an undercover spy in Kirk’s camp.  Seems he’s failed at the undercover part, which he’ll pay for with his life,” Pike says in Leonard’s ear.  “After he tells me what he learned while with Kirk.  You can help me make sure he’s conscious long enough to give me my information.”

The fact that Jim did this makes McCoy nauseous.  He can’t shake the image of Jim with blood splattered all over him, smiling while he inflicts pain on a member of his crew.  It’s too much.  Jim should never have that kind of blood on his hands.  “I can save him,” breaths McCoy, pleading and desperate because if he can do anything for this universe, he can stop Jim from being a murderer again.  He can save Kyle’s life not just keep him going while Pike tortures him.  “I can save him.”

McCoy struggles in Pike’s grip, finally slipping free and making it to the biobed.  He just needs to fix this, just one thing in this miserable world.  Hands grab at him, trying to stop him from running scans and administering medication.  The room is in chaos but he fights to hold his position.   He throws elbows and swats people away but they’re swarming around him like ants.  Spock and Pike are shouting but it’s all one loud garbled sound demanding something he’s not willing to do.

The phaser blast to Kyle’s chest ends the situation pretty quick, the constant wail of no heartbeat registering penetrates McCoy’s brain all the way to his fingers which drop the regenerator in his hand.  His head snaps around to see Pike still holding the phaser and something in McCoy just snaps.

“You bastard!” he screams as he throws himself towards Pike.  He has every intention of making what Jim did look like a scratch, but Spock wraps his arm around McCoy’s throat, squeezing tight and bringing his rampage to a halt before it can even begin.  “Get your god damn hands off me, Spock!”

“Negative, Doctor.  You will cease your struggles or I will make you stop,” snaps Spock in his ear.  Quietly so only Leonard can hear he adds, “These are not your people.  You will respect our customs.”

Security walks into the room, three men and Chekov, waiting at the door for further orders.  McCoy’s still squirming in Spock’s grip when Pike orders, “Get him out of here and take him to interrogation.  McCoy you’re going to tell me what Kyle learned and if you’re lucky, very lucky, you’ll stay dead this time.”

“Admiral, I must object,” interrupts Spock.

“Spock, we’ll have words later.  Chekov, get McCoy out of here,” shouts Pike.

“Come McCoy,” orders Chekov.  He says it with authority but when he takes Leonard by the arm, it’s anything but rough. 

Leonard goes along numbly, his eyes still glued on the body and his failure to prevent one more stain from tarnishing Jim’s soul.  The corridor is eerily quiet compared to the argument playing out in sickbay and only when the door slides shut behind him and the security team, does he realize he’s moved. 

Chekov doesn’t say anything but he’s standing protectively close to McCoy, far closer than security regulation would consider safe or appropriate.  The other guards don’t say anything but given the kid’s silence, Leonard figures they can’t be trusted. 

The data file feels like a cold block of led in his pocket.  If Pike gets his way, Leonard won’t have to worry about facing Kirk or Spock if he can’t fool Kirk into letting Uhura go.  He’s not going to get his two days but knows he won’t be able to rest if he doesn’t try and get his message to his little girl, to Jim.  He stops, pulling against Chekov.  “Chekov...”

The corridor erupts in phaser fire, one of the security guards dropping dead before he can even pull his weapon.  The other two return fire while Chekov shoves McCoy around the corner before pulling out his phaser and shooting at their attackers.

“What the hell?” cries Leonard.  It’s like the universe is going for a record or something.  “Who the hell is shooting at us?”

Chekov peeks around the corner and returns fire.  It’s getting quieter; the other two security guards are dead and the other side must have taken casualties too.  “It’s Commander Sulu.   Come we must get you out of here.”

The lieutenant gets them both to their feet only to drop back down to his knees himself.  He clutches at his leg, the smell of chard flesh filling the air.  Chekov hisses through clenched teeth as he rocks back and forth slightly to try and relive the pain exploding through his leg.

“Shit, let me see,” says McCoy kneeling beside Chekov.  He has to pry the kid’s hands away from the phaser wound to take a good look. The fabric of his uniform is charred and seared into the outer edge of the wound that’s various shades of red and black, the burn confined to his shin but extensive.  Leonard’s fixed plenty of injuries like this before, he just needs a regen unit, some topical and access to a mirco laser to repair the damaged nerves.

“Don’t move,” orders Sulu stepping around the corner with his phaser drawn.  He kicks Chekov’s discarded phaser away. 

Leonard can feel the tip of Sulu’s phaser poking him in the back of the neck and he raises his hands in surrender.  He can hear Sulu’s accomplices move to stand behind their boss but he doesn’t turn to look or away from Chekov.

Chekov’s hand goes to his belt, fingers stretching out for his dagger but McCoy shakes his head minutely.  He’s not going to have the kid try and be a hero, not for him. 

“You’re coming with me McCoy, or whatever your name is,” snarls Sulu.

McCoy’s stomach drops.  That can’t be good.  No one that knows who he really is has done right by him yet.  One of Sulu’s men grabs Chekov and drags him to his feet. Leonard ignores the confused betrayal that dances in Chekov’s eyes as he slowly stands up and turns to face Sulu.  “I’ll come with ya, whatever you want, but ya don’t need him.”

“No witnesses,” says Sulu casually, as his goon pulls Chekov’s dagger free from his belt and slits the kid’s throat.

“No!” McCoy screams moving to catch Chekov as the guard lets go.  The kid’s boneless in his arms.  Chekov’s gulping and gasping for air, trying to get anything through the blood that’s pouring down his chest and over his lips.  They lock eyes and Leonard can see the naked fear in Chekov’s eyes.  McCoy holds him so he knows he’s not alone.  He doesn’t have anything to save Chekov and can do nothing but hold him as he writhes and shudders his last breath before going completely still; the youthful joy bleeding from his eyes forever.

 “Get rid of the bodies,” orders Sulu.

The blow to the back of the head that sends McCoy sprawling to the ground unconscious is more than welcome this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chekov dies.


	7. Chapter 7

Jim Kirk lets out a long put-upon sigh as he skims yet another report.If it’s possible there’s even more paperwork sitting behind a desk then there was braving the black.Opening the calendar on his PADD he crosses off another day like a prisoner’s tally.The amount of time between now and when he gets to order his silver beauty out of space dock and back on her way, seems insurmountable despite the fact that they are over the half way mark.

Kirk grabs the next report and begins reading.He pinches the bridge of his nose feeling a tension headache coming on and gives his head a shake.It must be affecting his vision because he had to of read that last line wrong.He blinks a couple of times trying to relieve some of the stain his tired eyes are feeling and rereads the sentence slowly, over and over again when the words refuse to change.He punches his comm. button like it’s personally offended him.

“Yes Captain Kirk?” asks his station appointed secretary on the other end.

“Put me through to whoever is in charge of Yorktown disciplinary reports, please.”

“Connecting you to Commander Samuels, sir.”

“Commander Samuels here Captain, what can I do for you?”

“Samuels, I have in my hand a report citing Doctor McCoy for dereliction of duty?”Even asking the question seems wrong.McCoy doesn’t just not show up for his shifts, at least not without a damn good reason.

“That is correct, sir,” replies Samuels, pulling the report up on his computer terminal.“The initial complaint was filed five days ago for failure to show up for his shift with Yorktown medical trauma rotation by his assigned commanding officer there.A summons was sent to his communicator to report to medical discipline.There was no response and security failed to find McCoy during his two days off.Another report was filled yesterday, again for failure to report for his shift and to the discipline board.”

“And that’s Leonard McCoy?Leonard H McCoy?”

“Yes.”

“Lieutenant Commander Leonard H McCoy of the USS Enterprise?” says Kirk, worry and concern searching for any possible error in the claim, because if there’s one member of the crew he shouldn’t have to worry about finding trouble, it’s his best friend and self appointed conscience.

“Yes sir,” assures Samuels with absolute conviction.

Five days.McCoy has been in trouble for the last five days and this is the first he’s hearing about it.And only because of a weekly report about the crew that passed over his desk; not out of the man’s mouth personally.Jim feels like the floor is dropping out beneath him.McCoy doesn’t just not respond to a summons or show up for duty once, let alone twice.“I’ll take care of it from here Samuels.”Jim closes the comm. link and opens one to McCoy.

There is no answer to the call but he leaves a message.“Bones, I have a report you’ve been skipping duty assignments.You are to report to me the second you get this message.Do I make myself clear?”demands Kirk in his best pissed off captain voice, then in a more sympathetic and concerned tone he adds, “you better be alright, Bones.”

Jim feels like he’s missed something and can’t recall the last time he’s said anything more personal than ‘sorry can’t make it’ to someone who’s supposed to be his best friend.It’s not even Leonard’s fault; the man could have been standing in front of Jim on fire and Kirk wouldn’t have spared him a second glance unless that fire was going to get the Enterprise space worthy a day faster than scheduled.A self-deprecating chuckle bubbles out of him as he remembers feeling trapped by the monotony of daily life aboard his lovely Enterprise and now being stuck here at Yorktown, he has to refrain from bashing his head against his desk just for some variety and excitement.Trying to speed up the launch date has become an all consuming force in his life making him blind to what maybe a darkening storm on the horizon.

There’s no evidence yet to suggest McCoy’s in danger, just a tight feeling in Kirk’s gut.McCoy would be absolutely pissed if Jim turned the whole station inside out for something that could still very well turn out to be a miscommunication.Someone could have failed to put through Leonard’s request for a shift change or he could have lost his communicator or he could be lying somewhere bleeding to death as Jim sits here thinking about it.

Jim grabs his personal communicator.“Kirk to Scott.”

“Aye Captain,” comes Scotty’s voice.

Besides himself and Spock (but the Vulcan’s only included because Jim is the chain that forces him to interact with the doctor, though he and McCoy have been better since Altamid) Scotty is the person Leonard socializes with the most.It’s a friendship based mostly on the application of fine spirits and a mutual respect for each being a pillar in their chosen field, but it’s enough to hold them together in the vastness of space.“Have you seen Doctor McCoy?”

“Today?”

The one word gives Jim hope that while he’s been a shitty friend, this obsession has been confined to only him.“Today, yesterday or anytime in the last five days?”

“No, I cannae say I have.”

Kirk sits a little straighter, his hope sinking like a stone.Hesitantly, he asks, “When was the last time you did see him?”

“I dropped off a bottle with the good doctor over a week ago.”

“And you saw him?”

There’s a slight pause before Scotty sheepishly replies, “Ah, nay.He wasn’t home yet so I left it at his door with a note.”

Guilt is starting to nip at Jim’s heels like a hungry wolf.Apparently he hasn’t been the only one too busy to inquire about the doctor.“When was the last time you laid eyes on him?”This time the silence stretches.“Mr Scott,” demands Kirk more forcefully.

“It’s been awhile Captain,” says the engineer regretfully.“I dare say more than a month.What’s going on sir?”

“Stand by, Scotty, I may need your help with something.Kirk out.”Kirk moves on to Uhura next and when that produces the same results, he moves down the list of senior bridge crew members and McCoy’s senior medical staff leaving Spock for last.The bridge crew hasn’t seen him at all in the last month and just odd sightings in hallways the month prior.The most they’ve heard from the doctor is his greeting on their weekly update calls.The Enterprise medical staff can’t claim much better.None of them have spent any personal time with McCoy and only a few have seen him working at the hospital on the same shift as them but not within the same department.

Kirk pulls up the duty roster and traces the doctor’s steps for the last few months.It seems McCoy has been busy filling in shifts at the hospital and grabbing up research time in the Yorktown medical labs.In the last eight months he’s managed to publish two papers and put together a research team to find a cure for a new virus on a recently discovered planet.If Jim were going to have any complaint on how his friend was spending his time, it would be over the increased frequency in which he’s devoted himself to the labs, especially in the last month or so; the exact timeframe Jim started sending his regrets more than trying to make an attempt to share a meal or a drink.If anything, McCoy blowing off his duty could be warranted at this point just to prevent exhaustion.Maybe, just maybe Leonard lost track of time in the labs the first day and when he did manage to drag himself home has spent the last three days catching up on much needed sleep.

“Kirk to Spock.”

“Spock here, Captain.”

“Mr Spock, have you physically seen Doctor McCoy in the last five days or had any communication with him?”Jim bites his lip and holds his breath despite himself.

“I have not.”

Jim’s shoulders slump as his last best hope is yanked away.He has to rely on human error now for the best case scenario.“Bones failed to report for duty five days ago and it seems as though no one has seen him since.Can you locate him with the Yorktown sensors?”

“I’ll need a moment.”

There are a couple of beeps and chirps in the background as Jim waits patiently for Spock to track down their AWOL doctor.“According to my scan the doctor and his communicator signal are in his apartment.”

“Alright, I want you to meet me there in five minutes.Kirk out.”The news that Leonard is in his quarters should be a relief but there’s something that isn’t sitting right about it.If he’s at home why not answer his communicator?

* * *

 

Spock and Kirk arrive mere seconds apart at McCoy’s front door.They nod in silent greeting as Jim presses the door chime.Seconds tick by with no answer and Jim tries again, leaning on the button for a few extra moments so there’s no mistaking the sound within the apartment.What little patience the captain has disappears and he bangs harshly against the metal door hiding his friend.“Bones, open up!” he shouts over the noise.

There’s still no answer and Jim can’t keep the scowl off his face.Spock simply raises an eyebrow as the captain uses his override to force open the apartment doors.They whoosh open, letting the darkness spill into the hallway and Jim can’t help but think he’s standing in front of a tomb.

Kirk’s never been afraid of the dark, he embraces it, loves it with every fiber of his being because it’s the wrapping paper to discovery.But now he’s hesitant to see what awaits him.If something has happened to McCoy right under his nose and he didn’t notice... he’s not sure he could live with himself.Leonard is here because of choices and actions Jim made, because he dared to follow Jim out into the black that he so feared.Being stuck at Yorktown has clearly made Kirk paranoid.They’re on a starbase with state of the art security controlled by the federation.If anything dangerous occurred or could possibly befall the doctor, Jim would know.

He steps in the room with Spock on his heels and calls for the lights.The room is empty as are the bedroom, bathroom and kitchen upon inspection.The only thing they can show for their search is the doctor’s communicator.“I thought you said the computer located him here?” asks Kirk.

Spock pulls out his scanner and brings up his the results of his previous scan while running a new one.He looks intrigued at the findings, like the universe has personally put a puzzle before him to solve.

“What is it?” asks Kirk, that nagging foreboding feeling refusing to leave him alone.

“My earlier scan did place Doctor McCoy in this apartment as it now currently has him located on the patio of district four, level five, section ten, the southern recreation complex.”

“So we just missed him?” ventures Kirk, not looking forward to playing a game of hide and seek with a reluctant McCoy.

“I do not believe so,” says Spock as he continues to poke at his scanner.“His signal jumped from this apartment to the recreation complex in two point three seconds, far too fast for the doctor to travel to the location unaided and there is no trace or record of any transporter activity in this room.”

Kirk tries to wrap his brain around the problem.“Then how did he...”

“Doctor McCoy’s communicator is broadcasting a signal that the station’s sensor read as the doctor’s life sign.It is then jumping the signal to different locations on the station to make it appear that he is moving about the station.”Spock picks the communicator up, turning it over in his hand before accessing its controls.

“So someone programmed it to make us think Bones is around the station and what, we just keep missing him when we show up at the location?”Something so elaborate requires planning and forethought.Someone is after McCoy specifically and Jim can’t come up with a reason why.He can only hope that whatever their objective, they haven’t achieved it yet.

“Negative.The communicator is merely a conduit for the signal.Someone has implemented a program to manage it within the Yorktown systems.Such a feat would require profound knowledge of federation systems, to not only create the program but implement it without alerting security to the breach.”

They are clearly dealing with a professional but that doesn’t answer any of the really important questions Kirk has tumbling through his head.“Can you disable it and perform a real scan to locate McCoy?”The air is practically crackling with anticipation as Jim waits for Spock to give him some good news and move the weight that has settled on Jim’s chest.

“Doctor McCoy is not on the station,” reports Spock with a slight trace of disbelief and distress at the words he’s delivering.

“Then where the hell is he?”demands Kirk.


	8. Chapter 8

McCoy is getting really tired of waking up under these conditions.His life has become one of those old earth record players stuck on a loop and it isn’t even a song he likes.His head is hammering with a vengeance against a combination his self inflicted pain that’s failed to burn away the misery of his world and Sulu’s phaser.The rest of him hurts with the ache of someone else’s desire to burn him away from the world.His head lulls to the side as he tries to summon the strength to lift it.The best he can accomplish is rolling it forward enough so it hangs limply against his chest.The taste of iron in his mouth has become a constant companion that he’s sure will never go away, even long after his wounds have healed, assuming he lasts that long.He can’t even produce enough saliva to spit out the thick coating of blood painting his teeth and tongue.

The chair he’s tied to isn’t designed for comfort, all hard edges and unforgiving planks.It’s just a drop in the bucket of discomfort, so small that it doesn’t even matter anymore.He can hear Sulu shuffling around the room muttering to himself with promises of the agony he’s going to inflict on the doctor, but Leonard doesn’t even feel the flutter of fear awaken within him.He’s numb, and not because of anything Sulu has done to him.This world is hell and staying in it, requires more energy than McCoy can force himself to summon any more.

McCoy lets out a strangled cry as Sulu grabs a fistful of his hair, wrenching back his head so Leonard has no choice but to look him in the eye.The cold hearted bastard looks smug; this is what passes for entertainment in their soulless existence here, the breaking of other people and the shattering of their souls.

“Do you know what this is, Doctor?” asks Sulu, pointing to the cart he wheeled over.

McCoy’s gaze follows the commander’s hand.It’s not the vicious shiny tools lying across the table, though he can imagine how those are going to be used against him, but the kit sitting tall and proud amongst them.“Iz, my medkit,” he slurs.It’s more than that.He’d recognize it anywhere.His father gave it to him upon graduating medical school; the first time he ever looked truly proud of anything Leonard accomplished.His stomach rolls wondering just what he would have had to do here to see that same look on his father’s face.

“You know, I never understood the need to learn basic first aid until I watched you work once back at the academy.You said healing was necessary to make the torture last longer and you know something, you were right.I think it’s only fitting that we use your tools to facilitate the lesson I’m going to teach you.”The case clicks open, and Sulu pulls a laser scalpel out, brandishing it in front of Leonard’s face before cutting through the captive’s shirt.He slices through the tender flesh along the way leaving a red ribbon running down McCoy’s side as the fabric of his shirt falls away.“Feel free to scream.”

McCoy almost bites through his tongue but he doesn’t make a sound; his jaw muscles spasming in protest.Not giving in will probably draw things out but he doesn’t care.It’s his last defense against this world and his only chance to withdraw into the numbness of his mind.

A smile comes to Sulu’s face as McCoy’s shirt falls away leaving him exposed.A bright, fresh, tender pink scar runs from his shoulder across his chest like a mountain range cutting through the purple and black bruising cover in his torso.Sulu runs his fingers over the incision, finger tips cool, sending a shiver through the doctor.“How about we give you another one to match?”

McCoy can’t even suck in a breath before Sulu is driving his dagger through his right shoulder, the tip embedding into the back of the chair. This time he does scream. It’s loud and animalistic and hard to imagine the whole ship didn’t hear it.His vision swims as dark spots dance around the edges and he chokes on his own blood and vomit as his body shakes and spasms.His breath is as shaky as his body as his muscles quiver and tremble; pain crackling along every nerve ending.

“I’ve figured out who you are, Doc.”Sulu pulls up a stool; his face taking over McCoy’s narrowing vision.

“I’m McCoy, Leonard H,” he tries to say but it comes out more as a whimper.He shrinks back as much as he can with the knife pinning him in place, to put any kind of distance between him and Sulu.He can feel his blood spreading out against the fabric of his uniform that’s pinned between his back and the chair, the sticky warmth cooling against his clammy skin.“I’m McCoy, Leonard H,” he says again, repeating like a mantra.He will remember who he is or get lost in the haze of pain that threatens to steal his soul.

“No. You’re not our doctor.McCoy was a magician with a blade.The Picasso of our generation and blood and fear were his mediums,” Sulu sneers.“You’re just some pathetic copy.”

“Ya could always give me that knife and we could find out,” counters McCoy, breathy and desperate.Chekov’s dead eyes are still haunting him as are Kyle’s screams and Marley’s desperate wheezes for breath.He’s prepared to cut those memories out of Sulu’s flesh and then his own.

“This knife?”Sulu flicks the dagger pulling a wounded hiss out of McCoy as the doctor actually bites through his lip to endure the ripple of pain the vibration sends through his body.“But it looks so much better in you.”

Sulu’s on his feet, circling like a shark that caught the scent of blood in the water.“I’ve been watching you and how Captain Spock treats you.He would never be so lenient to an ally of Kirk’s, especially Kirk’s right hand.I also know about the other universe.Spock was able to get information that has proven invaluable in his rise to the top from our last encounter with an alternate universe.You will give me that advantage now.I want to know everything about your world.”

McCoy only offers stubborn silence.Sarcastic and abrasive words require too much.The smart thing to do would be to beg for it to end, for Sulu to let him slip from this world forever but all he can think about is that cock sure smile Jim wore during this third Kobayashi Maru test as he proved there’s always a way to win or the relief on his face as Spock hauled his ass aboard the swarm ship after nearly getting sucked out into space.That self-sacrificing idiot, Spock better look after him.Not that the Vulcan is much better when push comes to shove.Jim will come and Leonard can’t bear to be responsible for putting disappointment on his face should he find out Leonard just rolled over and died.

After awhile Leonard isn’t sure if Sulu is asking him questions anymore.The only sound he can hear is his brain rattling around in his head every time the commander drives his fist into his face.He doesn’t even know what he could tell Sulu that would be of any use.Anyone he’d want to warn another universe about is the type of sociopath that would be celebrated here.Khan and Krull are practically poster children for this universe, having no cause to spread their horror here the way they did back home.Those two are probably honored heroes here; probably get a parade every year too.Technology isn’t his forte, so he can’t give away any weapons or advancements and he tends to stay out of political affairs unless the Enterprise is entangled in them.The only thing he has to offer is his medical expertise and that has no use here.Anything Sulu could manipulate into something used to hurt others, McCoy won’t let pass his lips.

Time has no meaning as McCoy’s tenuous grip on consciousness wavers granting him short reprieves of nothingness until Sulu hits him with another stimulant forcing him back to his bleak existence. Blood loss has made him dizzy; the cold hand of death chilling him as the vital fluid seeps out from the many holes that have been dug into him.A depraved chuckle bubbles out of him as he takes a moment to think about just how much he’s endured, since someone he thought was his friend kidnapped him out of his apartment, when all he wants to do is die in the corner.At least then it would be over.He’s exhausted, and not just from the abuse he’s suffering.Sulu’s too twisted to even grant him the release of death, tending to any major life threatening damage as soon as he inflicts it and running a line for blood transfusions so he can’t run dry.

The ropes around his wrists are cut free, letting the air bite at the abrasions underneath.As Sulu grabs his hand and presses the sharp edge of a knife against his right index finger, he has no delusions that he’s not making it out of this world, mentally or physically.

“Let’s see what kind of surgeon you can be without your fingers,” hisses Sulu.

McCoy lets his eyelids slide shut as the knife breaks the skin, making quick work of the flesh and muscle on the topside of his finger.He can feel the pressure start to build as Sulu slowly starts to apply his weight to break through the bone.A hot tear fueled by despair slips past his lashes and slides through the blood caked on the side of his face.It’s fine that he’s never going home, there isn’t going to be enough left that Jim or the others would want back.

The pressure disappears before the job is finished and McCoy braces himself for something even worse.The anticipation is building beneath what’s left of his skin, clawing and biting at his nerves.There’s noise in the room, clipped tones and vicious threats but for once they’re not directed at McCoy.The table beside him topples over, instrument clanging to the floor like a shower of metal.

Leonard’s curiosity is peeked enough to try and raise his head.It’s a struggle, his muscles are stiff and worn and he’s hit with extreme vertigo the moment his chin lifts off his chest but he manages.His vision is obscured by swelling and blood but he catches a glimpse of Sulu’s red uniform dancing around the room.

It takes his fuzzy brain far too long to identify Sulu’s partner in the deadly tango being performed before the doctor; it’s Spock.He’s got to give it to the Vulcan’s cunningness and intuitive skills in a fight but Sulu has a few moves proving to be effective in evading Spock’s deadly wrath.The sheer hatred radiating off of the captain sends shivers down McCoy’s spine.Clearly Spock doesn’t approve of someone else toying with his playthings.

Vulcan strength wins out in the end and Sulu goes down with a strangled cry before Spock ends it completely with the deceive snap of the commander’s neck.Leonard can’t bring himself to feel anything at seeing Sulu lying on the floor dead.There’s no relief, satisfaction or sorrow, just nothingness.McCoy’s afraid that it says more about him and what this universe has done to him than the people who have made it their mission to see him suffer.

Spock stands there for a moment, towering over his victim, as he regulates his strenuous breaths.The loss of his first officer is regrettable but Sulu has proven to be more trouble than Spock can tolerate and maintain order on his vessel.His death will serve as a warning to those that dare to challenge his command and go against his wishes.As Spock’s elevated heart rate begins to settle into its normal relaxed rhythm, he looks at the doctor slumped on the chair.

He had thought McCoy’s world weak; the doctor himself a typical specimen of a bleeding heart society demanding the guiding hand of an iron fist.Now, he has to admire the strength that this McCoy possesses.A lesser man would have broken into a blubbering mess long before Spock was able to discern Sulu’s treachery and come to save the only pawn he has in dealing with Kirk.

As Spock clamps down on his recently tapped rage, he notices a twinge in his lower abdomen.It quickly grows from a twinge to all encompassing burning sensation that causes his legs to buckle.He looks down in curiosity at the scalpel embedded there.He reaches down and pulls free Sulu’s parting gift.Immediately his gold uniform surrenders to a muddy green color as his brow scrunches in pain.His hand clamps over the wound but he knows it will not be enough to stanch the bleeding that his heart defiantly insists on pumping out through the wound that narrowly missed the organ.Spock losses his battle to stay up right, slumping over on the ground, limbs falling loose and useless.

“Spock!” shouts McCoy, his voice cracking, as he watches the Vulcan crumple to the floor.It’s an all too familiar scene and all he can see is his own Spock bleeding out against the dark metal of the enemy ship on the planet they crash landed on.His instincts take over and he forces his abused hand to fumble for the knife pinning him to the chair.He bites down hard enough to make his jaw ache, as shaking fingers wrap around the handle.Taking a deep breath he pulls at the knife.It twitches and wiggles aggravating an already highly sensitive wound but doesn’t come.It’s embedded too far into the back of the chair to come out easily.

McCoy gets two hands on the blade and summons every last once of energy he has to pull.He thought he was braced for the pain but it washes over him like a bucket of ice cold water.He cries out, his bleeding and split lips unable to stop him from voicing his agony properly.His vision whites out for a moment as his lung seize, unable to pull in any breath to oxygenate what little blood he still has flowing in his body; most of its decorating the floor and the tatters of his uniform.

The knife finally gives up its fight, sliding out of the gaping hole it made and releasing McCoy.He slides to the floor like a deflated balloon, a pile of useless limbs heaped in a puddle of red on the floor.Spock is bleeding to death right before his eyes and he’ll be damned if he lets that Vulcan leave him alone here.Jim needs Spock to help him get the crew back.McCoy army crawls towards the scattered medical equipment on the floor, just concentrating on putting one arm in front of the other. Sheer agony begs him to stop but his patient needs him.If he gives into his own pain, Spock will surely die.Time is a critical factor here and neither of them has enough. He grabs what he can and tosses it in the medical kit before looping the tricorder through the handle and tying the strap to his wrist.

Leonard pulls every reserve he has to make the rest of the crawl towards Spock.The Vulcan has slipped into shock, staring at McCoy blankly as the doctor manages his tools with trembling fingers that don’t work or respond the way he needs them too.Unconsciousness if pulling hard at Leonard, demanding his compliance as his body starts to finally shut down.He blinks hard trying to push it back; he has a patient to tend to first before oblivion can have him.He and Spock haven’t always gotten along, but Jim needs him.If Kirk’s going to lose Leonard, the least he can do is make sure his friend isn’t alone in the universe and save his first officer for him.

“Hang in there. Spock,” he orders but it lacks the authoritative bite of any real command.McCoy’s voice barely works, he certainly can’t use his normal verbal volleys to bully Spock into surviving. He squints at the tricorder readout, trying to make heads or tails of something that is normally so simple to understand; if only he could think straight.

Thoughts are becoming elusive and muddled between the past and the present, the answers to this medical problem dancing at the edge of his consciousness.He won’t let Spock die on some unknown planet in some foreboding nebula.They have a crew to save and Spock’s their best chance to find Jim and accomplish that goal.“I’ll save ya, Spock,” he slurs.“I’m gonna save ya.”

Years of practice have turned most procedures into muscle memory.As soon as he can grasp the right tool out of his kit, his hands know what to do.They shake and tremble making the work imperfect but the he still closes the wound with the artery repaired.The regen unit beeps its competition and McCoy lets himself surrender to his own injuries.Spock got him off that ship before the invaders could kill him.He owes Spock and it’s his duty as CMO of the Enterprise. Spock will live.He’ll find Jim and save the crew.McCoy’s job is done.


	9. Chapter 9

“How does someone disappear for five days from a starbase without anyone noticing?” huffs Kirk as he goes through the living room with a fine tooth comb for the third time.  The question is laced with self-incrimination more than anything else.  So far the most he’s come up with is bottles slightly askew on the shelf and a disheartening spot of dried blood on the wall at what is most likely McCoy’s height.  It makes his stomach turn that someone could be so brazen as to do this under his nose and worse that he didn’t even catch a whiff of trouble until someone else filed a report.  Someone else noticed McCoy was missing before he did.  He’s still licking his wounds from failing as a captain, now he’s failing as a best friend.

Uhura presses her lips together as she continues looking for clues in the kitchen as to what happened to Leonard.  Spock and Scotty are conducting their own share of the investigation at the Yorktown security office, digging around the computer systems and pulling up any surveillance footage from the apartment complex and surrounding areas.  Not only does she want to help because Leonard is a personal friend and dear crewmember, but she knows the captain shouldn’t be left to his own devices right now.  Their doctor is missing, they can’t afford to have their Captain fall to pieces with no one to put him back together.  “They did notice.  They just didn’t realize the gravity of Leonard not showing up,” she offers sympathetically.  It’s a horrible attempt at a balm but it’s the only thing she has right now.

She not blameless in this either.  Her and Leonard used to have a standing lunch date every Thursday while onboard the Enterprise.  Standing here in the silence of Leonard’s apartment, she can’t think of what was more important than those lunch dates now.  She doesn’t know what she’s going to fill her Thursday lunches once back on the Enterprise should, god forbid, they don’t get him back.

“I should have noticed,” Kirk shouts, throwing one of the throw cushions off the couch and against the wall before slumping down on the couch dejectedly.  If he couldn’t make time to be McCoy’s friend, he should have at least been the man’s captain and noticed his crewman was in trouble.  He’s developing a horrible habit of being one step behind lately.

Uhura stops sorting the PADDs on the kitchen table and walks over to the couch to sit next to Jim.  They’ve barely gotten over their losses from the battle against Krall, they didn’t need to take another hit so soon.  She places her hand on Jim’s shoulder.

“I should have noticed,” he whispers again; his personal accusation hauntingly loud in the silence Leonard left in his wake.  “I should have been here.  I was supposed to be here that night.”  Kirk turns his head to look at Uhura like she should be able to see his failure and offer condemnation for his actions.  “But I cancelled on him... _again_.”

“You’ll find him,” promises Uhura because like Jim, she needs Leonard to be alright.  If Altamid proved anything, it’s the crew lead by Jim Kirk can be triumphant in the face of utter disaster.

Jim nods his head minutely and dabs at the moisture at the corner of his eye before letting his head fall forward again.  He doesn’t want to take another loss, let alone one so personal.  He spent the first week at Yorktown contacting all the families of the brave men and women he’d lost, he can’t stomach the thought of having to do it again, especially for McCoy.  How’s he supposed to look his daughter in the eye and tell her she’s never going to see her father again because Jim was too preoccupied with his ship to pay attention?  A ship McCoy only agreed to serve upon because Jim asked.

Spock told Uhura what he and McCoy endured after Krull attacked the Enterprise.  McCoy couldn’t have survived all of that to simply disappear off a space station.  It can’t end for him like that.  They need him too much.   

“Captain, you have tae see this,” blurts Scotty as he and Spock burst through the apartment door.

Kirk clears his throat and puts his game face back on.  He’s on his feet and meeting his officers in a flash.  “What did you find?”

Scotty shoves a PADD in his hand as Spock says, “It’s the security footage from the hall the night the doctor disappeared.  We were able to salvage it despite the perpetrator’s attempt to destroy it.”

Kirk watches the footage intently with Uhura looking over his shoulder.   It’s mostly an empty hallway until a lone figure steps up to McCoy’s door.  Jim scowls at Spock and Scotty trying to determine if this is someone’s idea of a sick joke, but both men look serious about what they’ve brought the captain to witness.  He keeps watching and if he didn’t know the end result, would assume nothing was amiss about what he was seeing.  Then the floor threatens to swallow him up again as he watches their suspect carry an unconscious McCoy out of the apartment.  The video freezes on the only clear view of the face of their villain and Jim clenches his teeth so hard his jaw aches.

“Now I know we wouldn’t be here right now if what I just saw was true, because I asked you if you had seen Bones and you told me no.  Since Vulcans don’t lie...”

“We do not,” interrupts Spock.

“Does one of you want to tell me what it is I _am_ seeing?” asks Kirk.  If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it.  The fact that someone would want them to think Spock would do this is infuriating, but that McCoy would have believed it was Spock is sickening.  Ignored by Kirk and betrayed by Spock, those might be the final things Leonard believed before...  Jim finds his resolve, the doctor isn’t dead, he can’t be.  He sure as hell didn’t give McCoy permission to get himself killed.

“It appears to be me kidnapping the doctor,” states Spock.

“The beard’s all wrong,” pipes in Scotty.

Spock all but rolls his eyes, though it’s a pretty close thing.  “Since I was not here, nor did I kidnap the doctor, that man is an imposter.”

“You have a wonderful talent for stating the obvious Mr Spock,” says Jim, exhausted with the merry-go-round of non answers they seem to be finding.

Spock continues on as though he wasn’t interrupted.  “Or more precisely a doppelganger.”

Kirk’s brow scrunches up in confusion.  “How are those two things different?”

“I do not believe the intent was to impersonate me, the obvious error in physical appearance aside, but rather the perpetrator took advantage of the fact that we share an identical genetic structure.  That coupled with the readings Mr Scott and I were able to obtain from the actual transport site and the changes to the transporter itself, I believe the kidnapper was myself from another reality.”

“You mean like Ambassador Spock?” asks Uhura.  They don’t have the greatest record with people coming back in time and given the situation she can’t bring herself to breathe the name Nero.  Nero almost destroyed the federation, he did destroy Vulcan, all in a bid to get revenge against Spock.  Whoever has come for Leonard actually has him in their clutches and that doesn’t paint a pretty ending to this disaster.

“While the temporal displacement readings from the Ambassador’s ship are similar to what we discovered, that was a case of time travel.  I believe this is more likely a visitor from an alternate universe,” elaborates Spock.  The sheer mechanics involved in such a feat mean this is are extraordinary, not something performed on a whim.  The perpetrator is either executing a personal vendetta or has a desperate need for something only Doctor McCoy can provide.  He thinks back to Nero’s vendetta against him and feels a spark of concern for the situation the Doctor has found himself in.

“And what would another you from an alternate universe want with our Doctor McCoy?” poses Jim, already dreading the answer.  There’s anger in his voice, misplaced in being lobed at his crew but it needs to escape before it builds up and explodes in a violent display.

“I do not know.”  Spock could speculate, but there is insufficient evidence to come to any solid conclusion and any idle speculation he could make is not going to reassure his crewmates.

Jim scrubs his hands over his face and through his hair.  “Do we have a way to get him back?”

Scotty hesitantly raises his hand.  “I might be able to rig something up with the transporter that could send someone there but I cannae guarantee it will work and if it does work I cannae guarantee you’ll be able to get back.”  He looks kind of queasy and uncertain as he offers his assistance.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” says Kirk, trying to summon a confidence in this mission he does not feel.  Every fiber of his being is screaming at him that he’s too late.

* * *

 

McCoy’s lying down on a bed but it’s not sickbay.  Sickbay has a particular lullaby that sooths his nerves and he can’t hear it here.  He’s still contemplating opening his eyes when he’s called out for feigning sleep.  The little hope that it had all been a bad dream shrivels and dies a horrible death.

“You were careless, Doctor.  You do me no good dead,” scolds Spock.

McCoy’s heart flutters with joy until he realizes that the Spock he thought he was saving is safely in another universe and he’s still here in hell with the devil taking a personal interest in him.  He’s too tired to argue and there’s no point, he won’t win; not this.  He sighs and let’s his eyes slide open.  “Just git on with whatever punishment you’ve been planin’ already.”

“You saved my life, Doctor.” 

It’s a simple statement but it catches Leonard’s attention.  He turns his head to look at Spock who’s sitting in a chair not far from the McCoy’s bed, which as it turns out, is actually Spock’s bed.  He’d recognize the Vulcan artwork and decor anywhere.  He’s in Spock’s quarters.  Not sickbay.  It makes him nervous in a way that pulls at his skin.  “I did,” confirms McCoy, hesitantly.  He can’t even say he regrets the action; he believes in saving lives.  He will however regret what Spock chooses to do with this second lease on life; of that fact he’s certain.  

                “Where is the logic in saving my life?” asks the Captain with genuine confusion.  He looks at McCoy like he can’t quite figure out the enigma that is McCoy’s medical oath.

McCoy sits up gingerly, careful of every tender inch of his abused body.  He tries not to look too hard at himself but he can’t seem to override his medical training as he assesses the damage.  Most of it has been treated to the point that it doesn’t pose any immediate problems except aches and pains.  It isn’t fixed to the standard he demands from himself or his medical department but it will keep him going for however long this universe wants to toy with him.  He wouldn’t leave behind such scars to remind the patient, especially when the mental scars of this will run so deep they may never be repaired.  “Not logic.  It’s called compassion.”  McCoy winces as something pulls painfully in his side.  Carefully, he swings his legs off the bed and onto the floor.  He pauses and catches his breath, sweat breaking out across his forehead at this small exertion.  “Not that I expect you to know anything about that.”

“Your compassion has forced you to remain a prisoner.  I estimate you had a three point two percent chance of escaping had you let me die,” says Spock like he’s giving the weather forecast.

“That high, huh?”  McCoy furrows his brow.  Only Spock could talk so dispassionately about his life and being left to die.  “As tempting as a three percent success rate is, I couldn’t just let you die, Spock.”

“Three point two percent.”

“Can’t forget that point two percent,” McCoy mumbles to himself.  A little louder he adds, “Besides, it looks like you couldn’t let me die either.”

“I cannot complete my exchange with Kirk if you are dead.”

McCoy didn’t realize he was hoping for some sort of connection or bond with Spock, even if this one isn’t his, until Spock took it away.  They aren’t friends here, no matter how desperately Leonard needs one.  His life is only important as long as it fits Spock’s plans and after that serves no purpose. 

  “I also must know what you told Commander Sulu,” continues Spock.

That gives McCoy pause.  “What do you mean what I told him?  I didn’t tell him anything.  He figured out I’m not your McCoy all on his own.”  He got the memo about keeping his identity a secret and so far every one that shouldn’t know knows and the one kid that would have benefited from knowing Leonard was an imposter is dead because he believed the lie.

“Doctor, I must insist you divulge any information you may have let slip during Sulu’s interrogation.  With the Admiral dead...”

“Pike’s dead?” asks McCoy interrupting Spock’s rambling.  Pike was a bastard but the thought that the man is dead makes him sick.  First Marley, then Kyle and Chekov and Sulu, now Pike.  The bodies are piling up so high, he can’t see over them.

“The Admiral insisted your punishment be death.  As it conflicted with my interests I could not allow him to proceed with your punishment.”

McCoy can feel the bile climbing up his throat.  Not only did Spock kill Pike, but he killed him for McCoy.  “So you killed him!  You killed Christopher Pike.  He was your commanding officer!  You killed Pike, you killed Sulu.  Sulu killed Chekov.  My god man, is there going to be anyone left alive when you’re done?”

Spock looks at him like he’s calculating an equation that refuses to balance.  “I fail to see why you are exhibiting anger, Doctor.  It was either the admiral or you.  A species main goal is survival, and I ensured yours in that situation.  You should be exhibiting the human emotion of gratitude.”

“Gratitude?  You killed a man, Spock.  I don’t need you putting that kind of blood on my hands.”   He already has Chekov’s, he doesn’t need any more.  He should have told the kid straight out that he had the wrong person; maybe Chekov would still be alive if he’s known he wasn’t the man Kirk wanted protected.

“To adopt your colloquialism, there is already blood on your hands, Doctor, as there will be more if you do not tell me what information Sulu was able to extract.”

McCoy wants to punch him in that smug sanctimonious face of his.  “I didn’t tell him anything,” he insists because damn it, it’s the truth. 

“Sulu has many allies, any number of which may have been listening.  If you do not tell me what I want to know, we may all be in danger if they choose to implement that information,” continues the Captain, clearly not willing to believe that Leonard could hold his tongue against the former commander.

“I already told you I didn’t tell him anything, Spock.”  McCoy fails to see just how things could get worse.  This is pretty much the bottom of the barrel right here and it’s not like these consequences are going to have any bearing on his life when he’s due to be passed off to the next psychopath any time now.  He wants to tell Spock, that he told Sulu everything just for the satisfaction of seeing fear in Spock’s eyes, but he can’t make his mouth say the words.  Spock did save his life, even if it is to end it himself; Leonard’s mama always told him to show appreciation.

That dangerous glint is back in the Vulcan’s deadly stare; the one that promises blood and pain on McCoy’s part.  “Doctor, I do not have time for your games.”  Spock stands and begins to move towards the doctor. 

McCoy gets to his feet too but Spock just corners him against the wall.  He’s pinned like a trapped animal and has about as much recourse as one too.  He swallows reflexively; a sudden feeling of claustrophobia rattling his bones.  He pushes everything down into a tight ball of nerves and tries to stare down the intimidating and oppressive presence of the Vulcan looming over him with a resolve he doesn’t feel.  “What are you going to do Spock?  Torture the information out of me?  Kill me?  Cause that won’t get Uhura back for you.”

Spock grabs a hold of McCoy’s wrist, the fragile human bones grinding together easily under his grip.  “I have other means of getting the information I require.”  He raises his hand, fingers spread wide as Leonard tries to move further back but the wall refuses to budge. 

Realization dawns on McCoy as Spock’s hand hovers just over the skin of his face, brushing slightly and sending chills down his spine.  “Don’t you dare, Spock,” he stammers, one final plea for any kind of mercy he could possibly hope to wring out of this universe.

“Our minds are merging, Doctor.”

Spock’s fingers press down and Leonard wants to throw up. 

“Our minds are one.”

McCoy tries to struggle, to shake his head and dislodge the Vulcan’s probing fingers but Spock’s grip just tightens on his wrist even more; the pain strong enough to steal his breath and paralyze him.

“I feel what you feel.”

The doctor tries to brace himself, erect any kind of mental barrier that could slow Spock down, even if just for a second. 

“I know what you know.”

He can’t imagine a worse violation and he can’t do anything to stop it.

“Please.”  The broken whisper escapes Leonard’s lips before the world around him dissolves behind crashing waves of agony the likes of which he’s never felt before.

It feels like his brain has been turned to liquid and is pouring out his ears to leave enough space for the malevolent presence that is pushing and pulling, demanding space that is already occupied.  The pain of a thousand suns going supernova takes place between heartbeats and still he can feel Spock everywhere.  Precious memories, of being a young boy back home in Georgia bringing in jars of fireflies to show his sweet darling grammie, his mother gently washing pancake batter off his face and out of his hair after a failed attempt to make her breakfast in bed one mother’s day, reading his acceptance letter to medical school with his father, the first time he held Joanna all swaddled in pink with a shock of black hair sticking up in every direction possible, all of them wreak of Spock as he pokes and examines them all with Vulcan scrutiny.

There’s nothing he can hide and Spock seems to take perverse pleasure in poking at unhealed wounds.  Memories Leonard never wanted to live again let alone let anyone else see are played over in agonizing slow motion so Spock can feast upon every delicious second of Leonard’s personal inflicted agony.

He barely survived his father’s death the first time around.  Having to listen to David McCoy’s broken pleas for release from the pain a second time, knowing he’s too weak to deny them, shreds the small fragments of his heart that he managed to salvage in the years after he buried his idol.  Watching himself make the same mistakes as he goes through the end of his marriage to Jocelyn is devastating but the true meaning of torture is relieving the moment he leaves his little girl on the front steps of what used to be his house a mere hour after the divorce is finalized, the ink still wet on the paperwork.  Those tears that run down Joanna’s face as she screams and begs for him to stay destroyed his soul and now feel like ice shards slicing through his veins and spilling his essence on the floor.

His head’s smashed open like a piñata, every thought and memory scattering to the ground like candy for all to see and prey upon.  Leonard has nothing but ash in his hands now; everything important and precious to him burnt away by Spock’s bright probing mind.  Nothing is left untainted.  McCoy wants nothing more than to die all over again; crawl into the darkest crevasses of his mind and just disappear.

He’s been gutted and Spock’s not done yet.  The emptiness that the Vulcan invader has carved out is filled, forcibly stuffed with horrific images that McCoy struggles to make sense of.  Any sense of self is gone leaving him struggle to know where he ends and Spock begins.  He can feel his hands around Jim’s neck as Jim, his best friend frantically claws at his hands, fighting to take a breath.  He can feel Jim’s pulse pound under the delicate flesh his fingers are digging into as he presses harder, delighting in the feel of human frailty.

He’s going to kill Jim.  His hands that have been designed and trained to save lives are going to snuff out the life of his best friend.  He’s going to watch the light dim in those vivid blue eyes and he’s looking forward to it, is longing to experience it.  He tightens his fingers coaxing hard fought wheezes and gurgles out of Jim as he continues to struggle.  It won’t matter, he can’t out power McCoy.  The struggling just makes it sweeter. 

The act seems so simple, Leonard can’t understand why he didn’t do it earlier.  Jim has a tendency to piss him off.  There are countless reasons he could have snapped his neck like a twig, why did he wait until Jim tried to steal the Enterprise from him?

McCoy’s about to revel in the sweet victory of death when he feels the sharp stabbing pain of electricity run through him.  Kirk falls from his grip as he turns sharply to catch the chords attached to two electrodes biting into his back run from him to the taser gun in his, no McCoy’s hand.  It can’t be him he’s looking at; a person can’t be in two places at once, yet he’s looking at himself with a twisted smile of satisfaction on his face as he inflicts pain on another soul.  Before he can reach over and rip the throat out of this twisted evil version of himself, another jolt of electricity shoots through him and the bridge of his ship fades away.

There’s blood on Leonard’s hands, in fact there’s blood on every square inch of himself.  It drips in a steady rhythm off of him, collecting in a puddle on the floor.  There are bodies strewn all over the room, ripped apart like some wild animal had at them.  This is his handiwork.  This is what happens when renegade Romulans claiming to be from the future refuse to submit to the might of the empire.  His promotion is assured now.

His hand is on the control panel, finger trembling above the button that will initiate a second and fatal dose of painkiller to his father.

“Please, Leonard,” begs his father.

“Do it,” encourages Spock.  “He’s never been proud of what you’ve accomplished.  Always pointed out your short comings.  Told you you would fail at your marriage before you even said I do.  Here’s your chance to prove whose better.”

“No!  That’s not what this is about,” insists McCoy.  He yanks his hand back much to his father’s dismay.  “I loved him.”

“You resented him.  Always coming up short.  Always the disappointment.  Take your opportunity to prove you’re not a spineless coward.”

“Shut up!”  McCoy covers his ears with his hands.

“You’re in this mess because you can’t take control of a situation.”  Spock grabs Leonard’s hand and places it over the laser scalpel sitting on the side table.  McCoy’s fingers curl around it.  “Only you can end this,” hisses Spock.

“Enough!” shouts Leonard and suddenly his hand is flying through the air, the scalpel cutting through the tender flesh of his father’s throat.  He stares in horror as his father bleeds out over the crisp white sheets, a look of contempt upon his face.

Leonard shakes his head frantically.  “That isn’t how it happened,” he insists.  Spock looks unconvinced but exquisitely pleased with the outcome.  Deep down he knows this isn’t what happened but the scalpel’s in his hand and the blood is drying on his skin.  Maybe this is who he is after all. 

The memories come faster and faster and Leonard can’t breathe.  He can’t sort out where he ends and Spock begins, what’s real and what’s not.  The truth has become a dark black mass that refuses to chase away the lies and Spock’s memories. 

Leonard curls in on himself pulling his knees tight to his chest.  He close his eyes so tight is hurts and sits there shaking, muttering to himself all the things he knows to be true.  The list isn’t very long anymore.

                Spock pries his hand away from the doctor and watches impassively as McCoy slides to the floor, staring blankly at the wall.  He’s unsurprised, human minds are notoriously fragile.  He has to give McCoy credit though, his mind put up more a resistance than he is used to from humans.  In the end it didn’t matter, he was able to ascertain that the doctor was in fact telling the truth; he gave no useful information to Sulu.  If he didn’t have to hand McCoy over to Kirk, the doctor would be a worthwhile asset to him in this universe.

Spock bends down and pulls an unresponsive McCoy over his shoulder.  It’s not unlike the first time he met this version.  He makes his way through the corridor to the shuttle bay.  His mission is almost over and whatever Kirk decides to do with the doctor will be an unfortunate waste, he will have Uhura back on the Enterprise where she belongs, at his side.

* * *

 

Uhura has to work to keep up with Kirk as they walk down the hall.  She knows he hasn’t had any sleep since they discovered Leonard was missing, none of them have, and isn’t sure where he’s finding the energy to maintain the pace he’s set.  “What did Starfleet say about this mission,” she asks as they near the transporter room Scotty summoned them to.

“I didn’t tell them,” states Kirk.  His tone is cold, like he’s made up his mind and nothing anyone says will change it now.

“You didn’t tell them,” repeats Uhura, making sure she heard him correctly.  While Kirk is known for playing by his own rules this is going to be a hard pill for command to swallow when they find out and they will find out; attempting to transport to an alternate universe isn’t something that’s likely to go unnoticed, especially if they can’t bring Leonard home.

“It’s easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission, Lieutenant.  If Starfleet finds out they’ll either shut us down and cite regulation or call in diplomats to negotiate for Bones back and I have a feeling Bones can’t wait for bureaucracy.”

Doing this on their own limits their resources and certainly means there won’t be any cavalry showing up to help if they end up over their heads.  It also adds the threat of disastrous consequences should their plans be discovered.  There’s no way Spock would agree to this which means Kirk is planning on doing this alone.  “But...”

Jim stops just before the doors to the transporter room.  He puts his hands on her shoulders, a look of sheer determination as he promises, “I’m not going to leave him there alone for one more second than necessary.”  He looks deep into Nyota’s eyes until he sees a flash of understanding that there isn’t anything he isn’t prepared to do to try and bring his missing crewman and friend home, even if that means risking his position as captain of the Enterprise.

He steps through the doors and comes to an abrupt stop.  The whole senior crew is waiting there, outfitted with phasers and gear like they’re going on an away mission.

“You didn’t think we’d let you go alone did you?” asks Sulu as he sees the stunned look on his Captain’s face.

“I’m doing this without permission and no guarantee it will work and if we can get home if it does work.  I can’t ask any of you to risk your careers or your lives for this.  McCoy is my responsibility and I’m going to be the one to go get him,” states Jim.

“The optimal success of this mission is one that is carried out with a small yet affective away team.  I estimate our success as a team at being twenty-five point seven percent versus eight point nine percent should you chose to go alone,” counters Spock.

“Aye, if ye want yer best chance of returnin’ you’re gonnae need me tae try an’ work my magic on the other end,” adds Scotty.

“We all want to help Doctor McCoy and we can’t let you do this alone, Keptain,” Chekov says.

Kirk looks around the transporter room a feeling of warmth and pride settling deep in his gut.  He couldn’t ask for a better crew.  He’s touched by their loyalty and determination and knows Leonard would be too. 

There’s steel in the crew’s eyes and Jim would be a fool to argue with any of them but he still has to make sure.  “I can’t ask any of you to come when there’s no guarantee we’ll get back.”

“You’re not asking, we’re volunteering,” assures Uhura.

“The Doc would do the same for any of us,” adds Sulu.

Kirk relents, “Alright.  But Uhura and Chekov you’re staying here.”  Both officers open their mouths to object but Jim raises his hand to silence them.  “Uhura we’re going to need someone here to run interference with anyone looking for us, particularly command.  Chekov we’re going to need someone here with the technical knowhow to help us get back should something go wrong on our end.  Both of you have a better chance of explaining this to Starfleet if it goes south.”

“Yes, Captain,” agrees Chekov though he looks reluctant to step off the transporter pad. 

“Yes, sir.”  Uhura steps over to the control panel beside Chekov as Scotty shows the ensign the activation sequence before joining Spock and Sulu on the pad.  “Bring Leonard home to us,” she bids.

Kirk nods at the two officers he’s asked to stay behind and joins the away team on the transporter.  “Energize.”

The away team disappears leaving Chekov and Uhura behind.  They share a look that’s equal parts hopeful and dread.  All they can do now is wait and hope for the best.


	10. Chapter 10

Leonard's head snaps to the side, his face stinging and jaw aching from the back handed slap to the side of the head at only a fraction of Vulcan strength. He blinks slowly, the peaceful nothingness slipping from his grasp. He was just in Spock's quarters a moment ago and now he's staring at the inside of a shuttle; just him and Spock. McCoy raises his hand to cradle his aching jaw but aborts the movement as he realizes his hands have been cuffed together.

Everything feels like a bad dream and the world still wrapped in the fog of sleep. There's also the sense that he's not alone and it has nothing to do with Spock towering over him. There are ghost lurking, invisible forces that whisper words and memories that are not his own. A chill runs down his spine as the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, an alert that danger is hovering all around him. It's like being alone in the dark with nothing but his own harsh breath and the pounding of his heart while wild animals skitter and prowl around him, safely tucked away from sight by the edge of darkness, waiting for their moment to attack and rip him to shreds. McCoy's never been afraid of the dark before but the prospect of being alone with his own thoughts anymore is terrifying. There's a tremor to his hands that he can't seem to still.

"Are you back in control, Doctor?" asks Spock, like McCoy's little breakdown that he fueled was rather inconvenient on Leonard's part.

McCoy blinks rapidly as he tries to make sense of the question. There's a haze that's settled over him, sticky like molasses and just as difficult to wade through. Distantly he can hear his name being called but can't pinpoint it, like a secret on the wind coming from everywhere and nowhere. He feels like shattered glass hastily glued back together but the edges don't fit seamlessly anymore and there are chips and shards missing. He'll never be whole again but there's something slimy and not entirely him trying to fill in the exposed holes.

Spock raises his hand to strike McCoy again when the doctor gives no response to his inquiry. The motion startles Leonard and he raises his hands, a motion made awkward by the restraints, to block the coming blow. "I'm with ya," he mumbles. He wishes he wasn't but somehow he's managed to get his head above the dark murky waters Spock tried to drown him in.

Spock lowers his hand. He turns his seat back to the consol and begins making course adjustments. "Your lack of response was threatening to complicate our pending exchange."

"That's Vulcan for he didn't want to carry your comatose ass anymore," offers Jim slumped comfortably in the chair beside Leonard in the back.

Leonard's head snaps to the left and Jim offers him his patented shit eating grin. If it's possible, McCoy feels even more lost than he did moments ago. He swears there wasn't anyone else on the shuttle with them. Spock gives no indication that his mortal enemy is onboard with them and Uhura is nowhere to be seen. McCoy blinks again, squeezing his eyes painfully tight before opening them again. Jim wavers like a ripple spreading out over a pond but is still sitting there looking expectantly at the doctor.

"Are you real?" whispers McCoy. He's not sure he can handle a psychotic break on top of being hollowed out emotionally and mentally. Making him crazy would be that green blooded bastard's revenge for all their arguments over the years.

"Of course I am, Doctor," states Spock without turning back to look at Leonard.

McCoy flinches as Spock answers. The Vulcan's voice is loud in the silence of the shuttle. He looks back at Jim who shrugs nonchalantly.

"I'm as real as you need me to be, Bones."

"Oh lord almighty," huffs McCoy, rubbing at his forehead as he feels a headache coming on. His life is fucked up enough he doesn't need to add hallucinations that talk back to the mix. He certainly doesn't need to imagine Jim; he can find his own trouble without imaginary Jim's help.

He's not going to give Jim the satisfaction of embracing his new found insanity. Slowly McCoy gets to his feet, hindered slightly by his stiff muscles and bound hands, and shuffles his way to the front of the shuttle. He flops into the seat next to Spock ungracefully. "What happened?" He doesn't really want to know but the doctor in him needs the particulars and any conversation to distract him from Jim is a good one.

"You were in a dissociative state after our mind meld. I carried you on board the shuttle so as not to be late for our exchange."

Oh right. Things are still fuzzy, like the specifics of the memories are just out of reach but their shadow is still on him. It's an itch he shouldn't scratch, building in intensity and demanding his attention. If he pokes at it the damn will break, sweeping him away in an onslaught of horror but the dripping is driving him mad. "We're still doing that are we?"

Spock looks at him hard. "It would be illogical to cease my efforts at this point."

"Boooooones, I'm bored," whines Jim in the back.

It's a tone that always grates on McCoy's nerves. He has a child, he doesn't need another one. And why if he has to hallucinate Jim, can't his imagination conjure up a more mature, less annoying version? "Your whole plan is illogical Captain Spock. I don't belong in this universe, a fact that is going to become very apparent when you try and pass me off to Kirk as though I do."

"You are believable enough that it should fool Kirk long enough to get Lieutenant Uhura back."

McCoy might as well dig his heels in now. There isn't much Spock can threaten him with now. "You think I'm just going to go along with this?"

"You have little choice, Doctor."

How is it that a Vulcan that claims to have no emotions can come across that smug all the time? "What's to stop me from telling Kirk the truth before you get Uhura?" asks McCoy because he's tired of being dragged through this world like a ragdoll. Things can't get much worse; throwing a wrench in everyone else's plans might just offer a sliver of satisfaction.

Spock stills. "If you feel you cannot stop yourself from divulging the truth, which I assure you will get you killed along with everyone else, then I can make sure you do not speak." Spock raises his hand, spreading his fingers like he did when performing the meld.

McCoy instinctively leans back, putting as much distance between them as possible. His stomach rolls and his lungs seize; the threat working far better than Leonard could ever imagine. Maybe there are threats Spock can still use against him after all.

"Are you seriously going to let this elf tell you what to do?" demands Jim, indignation on Leonard's behalf coloring his voice as he sticks his head between Spock and McCoy.

"It is the most logical option at this juncture," says Spock, sans beard appearing next to Jim.

Oh god, now there's two of them. McCoy can feel his chest tightening in panic. Knowing you're going in sane is more stressful than he thought. "This can't be happening," he mutters to himself.

"Logic is going to make him a prisoner," argues Jim and of course McCoy's hallucinations would argue with one another. "It's just the two of you. You'll never have a better opportunity to take him out." Jim's eyes sparkle at the prospect of a fight.

Only his imaginary friends would fight with one another, especially over his hopeless situation. Non breaded Spock argues, "He is already a prisoner. Spock is the only one he knows for certain has the equation to transport back to his universe. Without him, I estimate his chance at getting home at one point..."

Jim waves Spock off. "Forget home. Stay here and you could be a god among men. You know there's an emergency medical kit in the back and exactly which hypos to use to kill the Captain over there. I say you do it, and the Enterprise can be yours. You can be the captain, the captain of your very own ship. Isn't that what you always wanted?" Jim's on his feet, bobbing up and down on his toes in excitement.

Spock looks frustrated, like even he can't deal with Jim being an over active toddler. "It is unreasonable to seek out a captaincy if one wishes to focus on medicine and medical research."

Jim crosses his arms and pouts. "You're no fun."

"The situation does not warrant _fun."_

McCoy grabs the finger that Sulu was determined to cut off and squeezes hard. Captain Spock may have stopped the bleeding and repaired the surface tissue but he put little care into repairing the extensive damage and bruising within. The pain focuses Leonard's attention and much to his relief the little devil and angle arguing in the back of the shuttle disappear. Their arguments aren't even his own. He's never wanted to be captain and he certainly has no designs on rising in rank through evil schemes. This universe's Spock has become his internal voice; motives and desires that are not his own are whispering in his ear and trying to guide his actions. It's like an infection burning its way through him until there is nothing left but the disease. It makes him want to be sick all over again.

He grits his teeth, anger sending shock waves along his nerves. Spock's already violated him with a forced meld, the threat of suffering it again should lose its impact not strengthen it. He digs deep and fortifies his resolves as he snarls, "You make it sound like I should be doing you favors. Damn it man, you kidnapped me!" Anger at the situation is the only thing he can be sure is his and he clings to it like a life raft.

"And I am going to hand you over to Kirk," says Spock with endless patience. "I assure you, that is a far better fate than forcing you to remain aboard the Enterprise." There's almost a sympathetic note to Spock's voice, like he truly believes he's doing right by Leonard.

If Spock thinks handing him over to a sadistic lunatic like Kirk is the lesser of two evils, McCoy isn't sure he wants to know the other option. He can understand the lengths Spock's going to for someone he loves and if the situation were reversed, he doesn't know if he wouldn't do the same thing. What's worse, he realizes, is that he doesn't know if that notion is truly his own or if it's something Spock stuffed in his brain.

McCoy slumps in his seat dejectedly. With defeat in his voice he asks, "And what do you think he's going to do to me when he realizes I'm not his McCoy?" Spock looks regretful, actually looks it, but doesn't answer. His silence says more to Leonard than words ever could.

"He'll kill me you know," says McCoy just so there's no mistaking that everyone knows there's no secret about the end of this story. It might be overly human of him but he can't help but try and tug at some heart strings that probably aren't there. He wants to be more than a well calculated statistic and casualty.

"I know doctor. That itself maybe a small mercy I am unable to provide. This is not a world for you."

If Leonard didn't know who he was talking to, he might be convinced there was a tinge of regret and sorrow behind those words. Broken and desperate he says, "You could send me home," cause he has to at least try. He'd like to see his friends one last time.

"I wish I could."

And god damn, McCoy actually thinks the sentiment is genuine.

McCoy stares out the window watching the stars. Now that he knows it isn't the black that's going to kill him, he can see what Jim finds so appealing about being out here. There's a vastness that removes the constraints of daily claustrophobia while the flickering diamonds that dot the black velvet keep it from feeling hopelessly lonely. It would be perfect is not for the restraints pulling his arms uncomfortably and the hard object poking into his hip.

His heart flutters as he remembers the data chip in his pocket; the final message for his little girl and his last opportunity to offer her any kind of peace. Leonard licks his lips. "Spock," he says quietly, knowing Vulcan hearing will catch his words. He tries to keep his usual cantankerousness in check. "I have a favor to ask you."

Spock raises his eyebrow clearly intrigued by what McCoy could possible ask of him that he thinks the Vulcan could possibly entertain. Not wanting to have the same argument again he says, "I will not release you."

"No. That's not what I was gonna ask." That horse is dead, so dead it's starting to smell. "I..." the words catch in his throat. "I recorded a message for Joanna, my daughter..."

"I am aware of whom Joanna McCoy is."

This whole conversation makes him uncomfortable but Spock knowing he has a daughter, either in this universe or his own gives him chills. "Anyways, I was hopin', no askin' if you could send it back to her, to my Joanna in my universe. I don't think it's right for her to think I just up and disappeared on her." He pulls out the data chip and places it on the consol.

Spock looks at the chip and then back at the controls. "It would be a waste of both time and resources to send something of such little consequences to another universe."

"Little consequence? God damn it this is my life. It's the least you can do!" He's plucked McCoy from obscurity to make him a starring sacrificial lamb and this is beyond his abilities?

"I assure you, Doctor, I owe you nothing."

"You're going to hand me over knowin' I'm going to die, all to save your girlfriend. Trust me Spock, there's lots ya can do. It's a good bye message to my little girl. Family maybe illogical to you Mr Spock but it means everything to me." There are tears stinging McCoy's eyes and he isn't too proud to beg in this instance. "Please."

"We will be arriving at our destination in three point seventeen minutes. I believe silence would be most beneficial for the remainder of our journey."

McCoy snatches the data chip off the consol and stuffs it back into his pocket. He turns in his seat so he doesn't have to look at the Vulcan anymore. It's childish but he doesn't have a lot of options available to him to convey his displeasure. His last best hope has been dashed but it's his fault for thinking he could garner any sympathy from a cold blooded computer that plays at being a man.

McCoy catches Jim's reflection in the window. He's standing behind Spock miming shooting Spock with an imaginary phaser and McCoy thinks maybe that's not such a bad idea after all.


	11. Chapter 11

Jim leans back in his seat in the darkest corner of the bar he could find and glances at the entrance, careful to keep his face hidden in the shadows. He already had enough attention when the team first arrived in this strange yet familiar universe, anymore would greatly hinder their operation. Apparently James T Kirk is a bit of a celebrity around these parts, but for all the wrong reasons in Jim's opinion.

New Haven has everything a rough and tumble smuggling port planet could boast, including over eager bounty hunters looking to make a name for themselves and drunks spoiling for a fight. It's like every seedy bar he spent his misspent youth in all wrapped up in one convenient planet. Fifteen year old Jim would be envious right now. While Jim would like nothing more than to take his growing frustration out on a willing punching bag, he can't help Leonard any faster that way. If anything it would make matters more complicated and ruin the small chance they have to start with. With age has come a sliver of wisdom, and wouldn't McCoy be proud of him right now.

He tries to read the PADD in front of him but the words just stir his feelings of rage, smashing them together like clumps of clay to form a slumbering giant just waiting to be woken. It was Spock's quick work at breaking into the computer systems in Yorktown when they arrived that gained them downloads of information on the empire and their counterparts here. It's one horrific account after another and Jim's pretty sure his first officer is just as appalled by his doppelganger and this world as the rest of the team is though the Vulcan is managing to keep his poker face in place better than the rest of them. Jim's not shocked by what he's been up to here in this world; he's seen evil up close a few times and even has the blood of the psycho that killed Pike running through his veins. This could have been his future had the right person not stepped in at the right moment and offered a new course for the flailing future captain.

Jim grows queasy thinking about where McCoy has been for the last few days. This isn't a world for anyone, least of all the good doctor. It kills him to sit here and wait but his face tends to fuel people's desire to be uncooperative in this world. The Empire seems to favor the Vulcan, making it easier for Spock to move around with Scotty to try and secure transport while Sulu, also in the Empire's good graces, is working his magic to track down the Enterprise.

Jim thought hell had been sitting stationary at Yorktown while space seductively called him back out to play. He'd been wrong. McCoy has been in hell while Jim hadn't noticed. If he'd just taken a moment, Leonard might not have even been in his room when Spock came knocking or Jim might have been there to stop the abduction all together. Or Spock could have taken both of them, but at least Leonard wouldn't be alone. The Enterprise can and will be replaced; if something has happened to McCoy, and by reading theses peoples' history, it most assuredly has, Jim's never going to forgive himself. McCoy's one of the few things in his life he can't replace or substitute.

The first thing Jim's going to do when he gets McCoy back and safely home is make a tether with the strongest alloy known in existence and tie the two them together so Jim can't lose sight of him again. He might even make it protocol for his whole senior staff; might as well nip future problems in the bud now instead of waiting for his next friend to disappear.

He pulls at the long sleeve of the jacket he 'liberated' upon arriving at New Haven in their equally 'liberated' shuttle as a means to blend in and hide their alternate Federation uniforms. Jim hasn't racked up this many misdemeanours and crimes since the summer he spent going on a tour of back alley bars across the state with his fellow young offender he met in juvie the month before at fifteen. The fabric itches and the collar constantly feels like it's choking him as though he's trying to fit into a skin that's not his own.

Sulu slides into the booth as unobtrusively as possible. This place is why he joined Starfleet, so his daughter would never know a world like the one he's currently in. There's a lawless danger that crackles in the air threatening to ignite a powder keg of hostility that's tempered with the gentle sweet music of the somewhat familiar. Things may look like the world they left but the dance steps to this melody are still foreign and swaying to the rhythm will only get them so far before someone notices their footwork is faulty. Unfortunately failure will not only doom them but McCoy as well.

"What did you find?" asks Jim wasting no time for pleasantries.

Sulu rolls out the paper thin star chart and taps it on. "The Enterprise is going here," informs Sulu letting his index finger rest on the planet Mirma III. Sulu's finger travels over the smooth surface coming to rest over a portion of space between solar systems and hardly on path to reach her intended assigned destination. "But she's stopped here and no one knows why."

"What's around there?" Jim asks, trying to wrack his brain for any business his Enterprise has had in the area or could potentially have there.

"Planetoid New Vega in the Tramagle system is the only place reachable by shuttle. Kirk's also been seen in the area the last few days," adds Sulu. Here Kirk and Spock are like oil and water so it can't be coincidence the two are within potential torpedo distance of one another.

"So Kirk and Spock are in the same area." Spock kidnapped McCoy but by all accounts McCoy is against Spock here. Jim chews on his bottom lip letting his command training take over and run the possible scenarios and strategies by these two opponents to try and find something solid enough to act on. He keeps circling back to unfavorable after unfavorable scenario involving McCoy.

He's read the file on one James T Kirk, page after gut wrenching page and doesn't want to imagine what Spock's plans for McCoy could possibly be. For five days he'd been tinkering with blueprints and engineering schematics where the biggest problem was trying to cajole a miracle out of Scotty to see the rebuild completed faster while this Spock has been executing his nefarious plot. Even being here for almost two days hasn't gotten them any closer to saving the doctor.

"Good work Sulu. Spock and Scotty better get us a ride soon." The Enterprise is stationary for now but when whatever this Spock has planed plays out, their chance of finding McCoy or whatever happened to him will become infinitely harder. The iron is hot, they just need to strike and hope they don't get burned.

Out of the corner of his eye Jim catches a flash of the engineer trying to catch his attention from the other end of the bar. The moment their eyes lock, Scotty ducks out side door. Jim frowns before sliding out of his chair, his instincts on red alert. Sulu begins to do the same, following his captain's lead.

"Wait here," instructs Kirk. Something's unsettled within but he's not sure how to interpret his unease. If Scotty's in trouble then he doesn't need Sulu following Jim into that trouble too but then again it could just be the wrongness of the situation at large that had Jim on edge. There's the possibility he's over compensating for losing McCoy too, and Scotty just doesn't want to draw attention to three well known faces in this black hole of a planet. Jim hasn't felt this uncertain of himself since Khan revealed his connection to Admiral Marcus.

He squints as he steps out into daylight, the dim haze of the bar falling behind him as he takes a deep breath of fresh air and scans the alleyways for any sign of his engineer. Scotty's far enough ahead and not slowing down that Jim only catches glimpses of his brown leather jacket as he navigates the twisting maze of passageways through markets and back routes. It's like trailing a ghost and he has to pick up his pace or lose all trace of Scotty in the throngs of people.

Jim sidesteps an over aggressive sales person peddling their wares at one of the stands set up along the street and slams right into the solid warmth of a person. A hand latches onto Jim's arm and he prepares himself for the inevitable fight and warning to watch where he's walking when the voice of said person strikes a familiar chord.

"Captain," states Spock, low yet forceful. He waits patiently for recognition to dawn on his commanding officer allowing him to lower the fist he currently has raised and ready to strike out against Spock.

"Spock?" says Jim dumbly, glancing up to see the familiar face of his first officer. Spock releases his wrist and sidesteps to the left to revel yet another familiar face standing a step behind him. Jim's gut unclenches for a moment before his mind starts spinning a thousand scenarios for this turn of events. "Uhura?" he says accusingly, a firm frown on his face. "What are you doing here? I specifically told you to stay behind." Jim gets wanting to help save McCoy, he really does, but his order to leave Uhura and Chekov behind wasn't some whim. Then again despite the sometimes antagonistic relationship he sometimes has with Uhura, she does follow orders and understand their importance; it's one of the things that makes her a great officer and never raises any concerns for Jim that she's in a relationship with Spock.

If Uhura's gone against his order and come here, which isn't exactly an easy feat, something is terribly wrong. Jim can feel himself tense at the prospect of Starfleet finding out they've launched a rescue on their own and without permission and are recalling them before they've even laid eyes on their missing crew member. Or even worse...

Jim crosses his arms and puts his game face on. "How do I know you're even our Uhura?"

Uhura takes a deep breath and glances at Spock. Jim can't help but notice the way their fingers intertwine.

"I assure you, Captain, this is our Nyota," insists Spock. A small smile graces Uhura's face accompanied by a radiance that's hard to miss.

"I'll take your word for it," says Jim, suddenly uncomfortable with the obvious smitten behaviour between his officers and feeling somewhat like an intruding third wheel. "But why are you here?"

Uhura looks regretful but stands straight and tall. "The sun near Yorktown undergoes an unusual cycle every eight years emitting solar flares and radiation that's going to impact our communications and transporter technology for the next five days. Normally we wouldn't notice anything more than slower transmissions and the beaming process taking a little longer but..."

"Because we're not counting on a standard beam out it's going to put us getting home in danger," finishes Kirk. When it rains it pours. He doesn't need any more wrenches being thrown into an already precarious and potentially deadly situation. When they find McCoy, the plan was to leave posthaste sticking around to ride out some anomaly wasn't even on Jim's radar. If Kirk didn't have bad luck, he wouldn't have any at all. He can't help but deflate slightly. All he had to do was rescue McCoy and now when they find him Jim won't be able to grant the one thing he knows his friend is going to ask for: take him home.

"I volunteered to come through to find you and stop you from making the attempt to get home so the team doesn't end up in yet another reality," says Uhura before holding up what looks like a bulky metal bracelet, "but Chekov rigged these to help counter the interference and make sure we all get home."

Jim's never heard a more beautiful statement in his life and it's like the wind has found his sails once more. "We can get home with these?" He grabs the one in Uhura's hand and turns it over studying just what his certified genius navigator has pulled out of his hat.

"Ensign Chekov will be able to lock onto our signal and prevent our signals from being scattered and lost during the storm with these enhancers," states Spock, handing Jim another one for McCoy.

Jim has no words to articulate his gratitude for the crew that stands behind him, never wavering or questioning his lead. He couldn't be half the legend the universe thinks him to be without the dedicated people who serve under him. If he doesn't end up court-martialed for this, he's going to put his senior crew in for commendations. "Did you secure us some new transport? Sulu managed to find out where the Enterprise is waiting and a good place to start looking for our doppelgangers."

"When I left Mr Scott, he was doing the final inspection of the craft and said he would alert us once it was ready for flight," answers Spock. He stands out like a sore thumb in New Haven despite attempt at adopting the unkempt look of a smuggler in his black ratty jacket. There's just something that oozes discipline and rules that regardless of Kirk's best efforts to cloak when they arrived radiate off of him like a plasma fire.

"He came to get us at the bar. I was following him when I ran into you two." Jim gestures down the alley way as he fumbles to secure his bracelet around his wrist. "Come on, we'll comm. Sulu once we catch up with Scotty."

Uhura and Spock follow behind Kirk, like he's their guiding star, as he navigates the crowd, retracing his engineer's footsteps. Uhura grips Spock's hand tightly as she takes the time to actually look at the people around them. She'd been so focused on finding the away team that the universe fell into a blur around her. Now with her mission complete, she really looks at what they've stepped into. It feels like walking a tightrope without a net underneath. The wire is familiar and safe but surrounding it is a haunting black void threatening to swallow them whole if they make one false step.

Jim rounds the next corner and comes to a stop. There's nothing ahead but a brick wall and no sign of Scotty. Just as he turns to back track and try and figure out where they made their wrong turn the distinctive click of a phaser being armed breaks the silence.

"Don't anya make a move," warns a voice.

A tingle runs down Jim's spine as he stands perfectly still. Self incrimination wants to reach up and strangle him for mission the any signs that might have indicated this was an ambush and he can't help but feel like emotion is making him sloppy these days. He raises his hands in the air so no one gets trigger happy behind him. Slowly Uhura and Spock are herded to stand by Jim by a gun wielding Scotsman and as they pass into his field of vision, Jim turns slowly to get a good look at the threats. He turns and comes face to face with a mirror before the illusion breaks and the mirror is punching him out.

* * *

Jim blinks slowly to chase the lingering blackness away. He doesn't know how much time he's lost but he's sitting up against a wall with his hands tied behind his back and the ache of being clocked pretty spectacularly has firmly set in. Glancing to left, Uhura and Spock are in a similar predicament but at least they're on their feet. Jim might be more offended about going down after one punch if it hadn't technically been thrown by himself.

He manages to get a modicum of moisture accumulated in his mouth to ask Spock for a situation report but the words die on his lips as Jim Kirk squats down in front of him. They lock eyes and this is what the world ending paradoxes Ambassador Spock spoke of when he told Jim he couldn't tell Spock about well, Spock, must feel like. He's both intrigued and repulsed by the depths he can see in his own eyes which are looking back at him. And while that isn't strange enough, there's a deep seeded hatred woven tightly with an odd camaraderie that makes this imposter seem like a brother or an old friend.

An evil smile overcomes Kirk, like a hungry snake ready to swallow Jim whole. It's almost the same look Sam would get right before he made Jim do something stupid or dangerous or both under the guise of 'big brother knows best and of course it's safe for little brothers,' but multiplied exponentially. He studies Jim intently, as though he's trying to find the flaw in an otherwise perfect mask. "Well, they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." Kirk glances over towards Spock. "I'm touched, Spock, I didn't know you cared so much. And when you'd shave the beard?" There's mirth in his voice like Spock being clean shaven is the strangest thing about this situation.

It's strange for Jim to hear his own voice, especially as it says things he would say if the situation were reversed; almost like a form of deja vu or precognition. And is that the bravado and smugness that McCoy always going on about? He can hear it now that he can literally hear himself employ it and maybe the doctor has a point; especially in situations that are reminiscent of poking the bear. He can hear how he earns himself the extra punch and the extra attention from the guards or bad guys or a surly irritated highly skilled medical practitioner.

"I am not who you believe I appear to be," Spock says looking between Kirk and Scotty, whose cautiously hanging around in the background with his phaser handy, for any sign either is willing to listen.

Kirk makes a dismissive face and walks past Spock to stand in front of Uhura. There's lust and murder in Kirk's eyes as he places his hand against her cheek to gently caress her face before pulling her forward into a ravaging kiss. They break apart and Uhura wastes but a moment before she quickly brings her head head to slam her forehead against Kirk's cheek bone.

Kirk chuckles as he rubs away the sting before backhanding Uhura so hard her head snaps to the side and against the wall with an audible thump.

"Leave her alone!" Jim's heart pounds faster as he tugs at his bindings, but it's Spock that looks like he's planning Kirk's murder.

Kirk turns his attention back on the Vulcan. "I like her Spock but what would the real Uhura think when she finds out her spot in your bed had been filled with some imitation?"

Spock's nostrils flare as he becomes a tightly wound mouse trap ready to spring and decapitate the leader of the rodent problem.

Jim's only heard Uhura speak of the rage Spock was in when he went after Khan once but he's pretty sure if this Kirk isn't careful, he'll get an encore performance. "We're not what you think," shouts Jim, desperate to pull attention away from his two officers.

"And how would you know what I think?" demands Kirk, pivoting back around on Jim. They're mere centimeters apart, Kirk crowding his space in an attempt to intimidate an already bound captive.

"Because we're the same person," Jim says levelly. He's had lots of things to fear in life, but he'll be damned if he's going to cower or back down from himself. He'd always been told he was his worst enemy. If only his friends and critics had any idea how true that would ring.

"Don't flatter yourself. There's only one James T Kirk and you're looking at him," boasts Kirk.

"In most circumstances you would be correct, Captain, however there has been a breach in the dimensional barrier between our universes, making it possible for there to be two Captain Kirk's," Spock explains in a clam rational that Jim's almost envious of in the face of what this universe has to offer. It's probably what makes Spock so dangerous; the ability to hide the hurricane raging beneath the surface of calm projected to the universe.

Kirk changes directions again getting right in Spock's face this time. His hand strikes out like a snake, wrapping itself around Spock's throat and giving it an experimental squeeze. "Not captain!" he shouts, anger and spittle flying out of his mouth. "You took that away from me, just like you've done Bones, but I'm going to do what you did to me Spock and in the end I'll have both McCoy and the Enterprise back."

Kirk's hand tightens further around the Vulcan's neck while Uhura and Jim look on helplessly, their protests and arguments going unheeded. Sick pleasure is coloring Kirk's skin and his eyes dance in delight as Spock struggles for breath.

Suddenly the ground shakes and the room fills with smoke. "We got visitors, Jim," yells Scotty before discharging his phaser.

It's chaos and Jim has little recourse in helping or countering the unexpected guests with his hands still bound. He watches Kirk and Scotty move to a more defensible position closer to an exit as he struggles to get to his feet.

A reassuring hand falls on Jim's shoulder. "Sulu?"

"Are you alright, Captain?" asks Sulu, making quick work of Jim's bindings.

"Am now. Help Spock and Uhura," he orders grabbing the phaser from Sulu. "I'm going after them."

"Was that me?" asks Scotty flustered as Jim runs past him in chase. The pair have already fled the building but Jim takes off in pursuit. Kirk seems determined to get his ship and doctor back. Taking the Enterprise might put McCoy in danger and maybe they're here for the same McCoy and just don't know it.


	12. Chapter 12

"Let's go, Doctor," says Spock like McCoy has a choice. He grabs McCoy by the arm none too gently and drags him out the back of the shuttle when the doctor doesn't jump like a well trained puppy.

They step out onto the barren and dusty surface of the planet bathed in the low glow of a small sun. It's not a planet McCoy can say he's been to before. It's small and uninhabited by humanoid or animal except for a very small mining organization on the other side of the planet that operates for a few months a year. The sky is black like the night sky back on Earth, only it's day here, the small sun above casts just enough light that reflects off the white dirt and obsidian looking rocks that he can see for miles. The high rocky cliffs around them look like black glaciers glistening in the light. It's pretty in a unique way that McCoy might think fondly of the place if there wasn't a phaser jabbing him in the back. It isn't really necessary, where is he going to go? His hands are tied and his stamina is sitting just above zero so Spock's just being an overly cautious bastard at this point; probably just to shove his superiority down McCoy's throat. _And Vulcan's claim to not have emotions._ He'd throw it back in Spock's face if he thought he'd ever get a chance to argue with his Spock on the bridge again.

Spock marches them slowly towards the three figures standing in front of their own shuttle about a hundred meters away. It's like an old western standoff, all that's missing is the tumbleweed and the strike of the clock to ignite the shootout. Two of the three figures start making their way towards Spock and McCoy meeting them halfway in a silence that seems to suck every last ounce of sound from the universe.

McCoy would recognize them anywhere and his heart beats a little faster with momentary hope. Jim's pushing a bound and gagged Uhura forward while Scotty stands by the shuttle, phaser at the ready. It's Jim with every detail exactly correct and Leonard isn't sure if he's disappointed or horrified that there isn't a blindingly obvious difference between what could be misconstrued as Satan and his best friend.

Spock's grip tightens painfully around McCoy's arm as they get a good look at Uhura when they stop a safe distance away for any physical altercation to happen but close enough to talk without shouting. She's faired a lot better than Leonard, but the gash and bruising around her left eye looks painful. Leonard would offer to fix the damage but he can't even help himself and clearly both Spock and Kirk have no problem with people suffering. A voice that sounds a lot like Jim whispers, "Wait till you see what he's gonna do to you." He can feel Spock's deadly glare being leveled at Kirk who shrugs nonchalantly. "Mine wouldn't shut up," says Kirk with a smile that says 'what can you do.'

Spock's stoically still but his grip tightens a fraction around McCoy's arm as though hurting the doctor will ease some of Uhura's pain. Bruises are forming already and f the Vulcan gets anymore pissed off, he's going to snap McCoy's arm like a twig without much more effort. "We agreed upon an exchange; Doctor McCoy for Lieutenant Uhura."

Kirk glares hard at McCoy, his ire growing as he meticulously catalogues each bruise, cut and fleck of blood with his eyes. "That isn't what we agreed to Mr Spock," Kirk snarls, gesturing towards the battered state of the doctor. "How would you like it if made Uhura match?" He grabs a fist full of Uhura's hair with one hand and the other goes around her neck; his thumb pressing into the delicate flesh of her collarbone until she cries out.

Spock pulls McCoy tightly against him, his hand resting over the doctor's heart clenching the remote to McCoy's agonizer tightly but angled so Kirk can see. "There is no logic in injuring the Lieutenant when you are this close to getting Dr McCoy back," warns Spock, ready to take retribution should Kirk find too much pleasure in torturing Uhura.

Kirk snorts. "You're blackmailing me into an exchange, Pointy. But then again you always did enjoy playing dirty." Kirk unties Uhura, removing the gag last.

"Are you alright Nyota?" Spock asks, a clear tinge of concern in his voice.

"I'm fine," says Uhura standing tall and proud as she shakes Kirk's hands off with the same distain McCoy's Uhura had for Jim at the academy.

"I'm surprised at you Spock, no backup?" asks Kirk gesturing to the empty space behind him and McCoy.

"The agreed upon terms were we would come alone." Spock looks pointedly at Scotty.

"Well, let's just say that after you took my ship and now my doctor, I have a hard time trusting you. It's not very logical for you to not take your chance to kill me. So you should know, I have an agent on the Enterprise with orders to detonate a bomb should I not walk out of here." Kirk points his phaser directly at the back of Uhura's head.

McCoy's mind wanders back to Chekov and his unfortunate end at Sulu's hand. Will Kirk even be upset of the loss of the kid or just pissed that his inside man is gone? Knowing Jim he probably has a few people on Enterprise waiting to wreck havoc. It will be a never ending cycle of tit for tat and Leonard doesn't envy not being around to be any part of it.

"We send the prisoners over at the same time," dictates Spock. Kirk shrugs like he's board with the whole thing and gives Uhura a shove forward. She falters in her first step but quickly regains her poise and grace as she starts her slow walk towards Spock.

Spock lets go of McCoy but Leonard can't seem to make his feet work. He's staring at Jim but that's not the reckless son of a bitch that's had Leonard's back for all these years. Jim would never blow his crew up. It's like he's drowning in molasses; the space between heart beats is an eternity and the words being spoken by the people around him are penetrating his brain so slowly he can't make sense of them.

"What are you waiting for, Bones?" Kirk asks impatiently raising his phaser toward Uhura's back.

The nickname sets McCoy's heat pounding. It's the sweetest sound he's heard since waking up in this world and it's like coming home. "Jim," he mumbles as the world comes crashing back and all he can see is Jim impatiently waiting for him to finish studying so they can go to a bar and unwind after particularly long and difficult exam at the academy.

"Proceed, Doctor," urges Spock, low and dangerous.

McCoy takes his first step forward and then another. The further away from Spock he gets, the easier it is to take his next step. Uhura pauses as they pass by each other and glares at McCoy like he's personally to blame for what's happening. There's a promise in those dark eyes that she's going to delight in the spilling of the doctor's blood. She'll have to take a number; the list of people who want McCoy's head is extensive and he can only die once. There's going to be more than a few disappointed people in this universe.

He's standing by Kirk all too quickly and doesn't feel safer for it. Kirk punches in the sequence to undo Leonard's restraints. The freedom feels anything but.

"That concludes our business," states Spock once Uhura reaches his side and the safety of his arms.

"It does. Till next time Spock." Kirk winks at the Vulcan before grabbing McCoy by the shirt sleeve to begin walking towards their waiting shuttle; Scotty covering them with his rifle the whole time.

McCoy doesn't look back. He's not sure if he's more terrified to be abandoned by Spock to this new fate or if Spock will change his mind about handing him over, opting to keep McCoy as a permanent toy. Worse McCoy's not sure he wouldn't beg to stay with the devil he knows over the one he doesn't. His nerves are on edge. For a pair of bloody psychos the exchange was all very civilized and he can't help but fear the other shoe that's bound to drop. Nothing in McCoy's life is ever this easy. They both want the other's head on a pike and Leonard can't imagine either one passing up such a tempting opportunity like this. Maybe Spock for Uhura's love but Jim's definitely getting the short end of the stick here.

"You alright, Bones?" asks Kirk and it sounds so warm and genuine McCoy wants to cry. He looks into Kirk's blue eyes and all he can see is his best friend. Jim's come to rescue him at last. It's enough to almost pretend he's actually being rescued from this hell â€“ almost.

McCoy smiles. It doesn't quite reach his eyes but it's warm enough. "I'm fine, Jim."

Kirk stops walking going rigid, tense and still. McCoy knows in a second he's made a mistake somewhere, his breath catching in his throat as he stops next to Kirk. Something has set Kirk's fine tuned instinct for danger off and there's going to be no saving McCoy now.

Voice dark and dangerous, Kirk hisses, "Bones only ever calls me, Captain."

There's a look of betrayal on Kirk, like he's staring at a stranger, that hits McCoy like a punch in the gut. It wasn't his idea to deceive Kirk and he imagines it's the same look that will be on Jim's face once he's discovered Leonard is gone.

Kirk raises his phaser and turns back to Spock. "What the hell are you trying to pull?"

Spock's already waiting, phaser in hand, and McCoy has precious seconds to make a decision. Instinct takes over, it's Jim he's looking at after all, and before he can think better of it, he's pushing Kirk out of the way. "No!" he yells as Spock's finger coils around the trigger. He made a vow a long time ago to protect Jim's sorry ass and it doesn't matter what he's done because somewhere deep down is the Jim that Leonard trusts with his life.

They land behind an out crop of rocks with a bone jarring thud, him on top of Kirk. The impact is magnified with Jim's boney elbows and knees digging into all Leonard's soft parts. Part of the rock explodes as it takes the entirety of Spock's phaser blast, splintering and raining down black glass shards.

A sharp pain rips through McCoy's side and his hand instinctively investigates the source as he flops off of Kirk. He lifts his head to examine the warm wetness that's coating his hand. There's a deep dark patch spreading out over his uniform and bright red dots splattered across the pure white sand beneath him. The dots slowly succumb to the larger and darker puddle that's spreading out from his back and he lets his head fall back to the ground with a grunt. It's his blood painting the ground, a chunk and razor sharp shard of rock embedded in his gut; his price for saving Jim.

"What did you do?" asks Kirk irritated as he pokes and prods at the wound in McCoy's gut.

The pressure Kirk's apply is slowing the bleeding but the pain is excruciating; an unfortunate trade off for every extra minute Kirk's generosity is granting him. He locks eyes with Kirk and though it's buried behind a scowl, McCoy can see the concern and fear carefully hidden in the blue depths. He knew his Jim was in there somewhere. "Save you from yourself," mumbles McCoy because if he can bleed out before Kirk can kill him for his unintentional betrayal, he can keep his blood off Jim's hands. In a universe where he was destined to lose, it's the closest thing to a win he can hope for.

There's the constant sound of phaser fire going on around them but Kirk makes no move to jump into the fray. If anything he presses down harder when the bleeding fails to stop. It's chaos but somehow that bedlam doesn't penetrate the bubble around him and Kirk.

"I've never asked _you_ to save _me_ ," snaps Kirk and Leonard knows that self incriminating tone all too well. Jim's fine when he's the one risking life and limb but can't seem to fathom why anyone would want to do it for him in return and if they do, then there's something inherently wrong with him that's nourished that defect in others. Of course Leonard would jump in front of Jim. Even if it wasn't his instinct to protect to begin with, he'd still have the instinct to protect Jim.

"Never had to ask," McCoy clicks out between chattering teeth. He grabs onto the sleeve of Kirk's shirt as best he can because he has to make sure Jim hears this. "Make sure Jo's alright." Someone has to protect his little girl and if it can't be him, he can't think of anyone better than Jim.

Silence hangs heavy as Kirk leans forward and says, "Jo will be fine. I promise. I'll gut anyone that dares to speak her name let alone lay a finger on her."

"Cold." When did it get so cold? It's a bone deep chill that's trying to climb deeper and no amount of blankets is going to ward it off. There's also a weird rolling feeling turning his stomach like he doesn't have his space legs. He better not be coming down with something on top of everything else he's been through. He'll have to get Scotty to double check the environmental controls; Spock must be freezing too. He'll have a whole sickbay full of patients if it's not fixed.

"Bones!"

The frantic cry echoes off the cliffs that reach like gnarled fingers towards the sky. The exhaustion that's demandingly pulling at his eye lids must be playing with his mind because Leonard could swear he heard Jim without Jim's lips moving. "Mmmm tired, Jim. We'll have a drink tomorrow night," he breaths between dry lips. He is exhausted. It's been a long week and he doesn't have any fight left to ward off blissful sleep.

"Open your eyes you bastard!" commands Kirk before pushing his finger into the jagged wound in McCoy's side and twists.

White hot lightening tears through McCoy's gut forcing his eyes open as he gasps for breath. He paws at Kirk's hands to try and dislodge them but he's as effective as a new born at pushing them away. His grip on consciousness begins to slip again as the world goes watery and dark around the edges. He should be more concerned but the darkness is warm and welcoming.

"Oh god, Bones," whimpers Jim as he comes kneels next to McCoy, his hand going to the doctor's neck to check for a pulse.

Jim's hand is warm and McCoy can't help but lean into it. Jim looks absolutely terrified and whatever has the kid scared shitless should stir alarm in Leonard but blinking requires too much effort to expend any anywhere else. That's not the only concerning thing that registers for McCoy amongst the haze that's quickly pushing out all reason; it feels like Jim has an extra pair of hands. Worse still, he's hallucinating again because there's two Jim's staring down at him like someone just kicked their dog. They're alternating between glaring at one another and panicking over him. "Can't handle two of right now," he whispers before the black finally swallows him up; which is good because he can barely survive one Jim Kirk.


	13. Chapter 13

"Are you alright, Captain?" asks Sulu, making quick work of Jim's bindings once he gets to the captain's side.

"Am now. Help Spock and Uhura," Jim orders grabbing the phaser from Sulu. "I'm going after them." Kirk and Scotty have already fled the building during the commotion of Sulu and their Scotty's entrance created but Jim takes off in pursuit. Kirk seems determined to get his ship and doctor back and maybe they're here for the same McCoy and just don't know it, but Jim has to be sure.

Jim runs down the winding alleyways in chase. His tactical instructors at the academy will probably wring his neck if they catch wind of his reckless and desperate pursuit but playing it safe and cautious could cost him his one chance to get to McCoy and he just can't risk that. He manages to close the distance but Kirk and Scotty are about to enter a docking port and if they get inside and on a ship, Jim's dead in the water. Whatever is going on between Kirk and Spock here, will play out before Jim can find away to get the doctor out.

The phaser is heavy in his hand as he weighs his limited options. The risk of shooting Kirk with a weapon from this universe is too much. Shooting himself is kind of an eerie prospect anyways. He knows a couple of psychologists he slept with back when he was a cadet that would have a field day with that. He aims above their heads and fires; the charge blowing out the sensors in the door. "Wait!" he yells, running towards the pair while they're temporally stopped.

Scotty's on him in an instant, blade pressed tight against Jim's throat like an attack dog waiting for his master to give the order to kill. There's no joy or lust for life in this Scotty's eyes the way there is in Jim's friend. If anything this Scotty reminds Jim of his father's old leather jacket he wore as a teen; beaten and worn from protecting its owner from the elements for far too long.

Jim raises his hands in surrender. "We're after the same thing," says Jim. He can feel the knife bit into his neck and draw a sliver of blood as his throat bobs against the edge in an effort to form words.

Kirk smiles; a little smirk that promises worlds of trouble. "Then we have a problem because there can only be one Captain of the Enterprise and one James T Kirk." He nods to Scotty who mimics his predatory smile.

"McCoy," coughs out Jim under the growing biting pressure of the knife. He's going to have to go straight for Kirk's soft spot. When it comes to his crew, Jim would do anything, even beg a manic to spare their lives while he falls on the sword. He can only hope this Kirk feels the same way.

Kirk raises his hand halting the Scotsman's blade. Scotty pulls back slightly, his distain on his face, but keeps the knife, the threat, close to Jim's neck.

"What about him?" Kirk snarls, his patients worn thin. The name itself is a touchy subject, like an open wound that refuses to close in the doctor's absence.

Jim stares at Kirk, his eyes never shying away from his counterpart's intensity. Jim doesn't usually back down and he certainly isn't going to run scared from himself. "Spock has him."

Crossing his arms, Kirk juts his hip out. An air of superiority rolls off of him the same way danger radiates from his core. "I already know that and when I'm done wasting time with you, I'm going to save him from that green blooded abomination."

Jim never thought himself capable of murder without provocation before, but now he can see there's something far darker than he ever imagined sleeping in the darkest corner of his soul waiting for the sweet taste of blood to set it free. "It won't be the McCoy you know." There's a tinge of regret in his voice because it doesn't matter how evil this person in the mirror looking back at him is, he recognizes that flicker of fear that passes over Kirk at the thought of losing what is clearly Jim's best friend in any universe, under any circumstances. He saw that same look on himself in the mirror of Leonard's apartment when he went to find McCoy.

Kirk steps right up to Jim, their noses mere centimetres apart. They're sharing the same air and are dangerously close to trying to occupy the same space and time. Every instinct Jim has, screams to take a step back but he holds his ground as Kirk snarls, "You have thirty seconds to live. Convince me to make it longer."

The whole story falls from Jim's lips in a big pile of unbelievable crazy and weird that has defined his Starfleet career. He doesn't try and spin it or alter events to hide his failure to protect McCoy from the cruel nature of the universe, just lays it bare before the one person who can condemn him the most for it but also understand it in a way no other soul could. "You don't trust me, and I wouldn't either, but this isn't about us. It's about McCoy. You'd do anything to protect him and I would too."

"If you're lying to me," Kirk presses his lips together tightly and glares at Jim. Words won't properly articulate what he'll do if he's being played, if some imposter came and used McCoy against him, but he tries anyways. "I'll kill you, your friends, everyone you've ever loved or ever known. In this universe and any other. I will set the galaxy on fire and roast you on a spit."

"I understand," says Jim because if there's one thing he knows to be true in this universe, it's that this Kirk will make good on his threat. "If you can't trust yourself, who can you trust?"

* * *

"Well, let's just say that after you took my ship and now my doctor, I have a hard time trusting you. It's not very logical for you to not take your chance to kill me. So you should know, I have an agent on the Enterprise with orders to detonate a bomb should I not walk out of here." It's a threat Kirk had every intention of playing but until he gets to the bottom of the McCoy lie, he's not willing to implement it carelessly. If push comes to shove though, and the man he's looking at isn't his friend, he knows McCoy would rather die than be a permanent slave of Spock's. One way or another, his friend will be free. He owes the doctor nothing less.

Confronted with the doctor in question, behind the bruises, cuts and blood, it looks like the man that drove a broken beer bottle into the back of the Andorian bounty hunter that thought he could jump Jim from behind while he was busy teaching a card cheat a lesson. It sounds like the same voice that whispered recent injuries and weak spots about his opponents before sparing matches while Kirk was making a name for himself at the academy. Every detail is echoed; nights over drinks discussing their plans to make the universe bend at their feet, and Kirk knows McCoy almost as well as he knows himself. This imposter playing at being him is wrong, he has to be. There's only one person Kirk's ever trusted to have his back and he's looking at him now; if McCoy's a fake... If someone dared to make a cheap copy...

It's an unlikely scenario. One in which the only conclusion can be that Leonard is dead and Spock will do anything to get his whore back. If McCoy was alive and Spock was trying to pass off a second hand version of the doctor, McCoy would raise hell and turn the Enterprise into a floating tomb at such an insult. As much of a challenge as Spock has been, McCoy shouldn't be taken as lightly as most people take him. The doctor is a ravenous tiger, cunning and deadly. He's also a survivor. It isn't some thieving Vulcan that's going to claim the right of slaying such force. Spock cannot have the satisfaction of destroying such a man.

More importantly, Kirk needs this alternate 'Captain Kirk,' who claims to have it all, to be a liar. All the glory that's due Jim, the ship, the empire, it's all shared glory with the one person who saw greatness in Kirk when everyone else wrote him off. McCoy needs to be here to be Kirk's right hand man and reap the rewards that they've worked so hard for. He'd always known he'd let McCoy become a key part of his foundation, a tactical error he is willing to over look, but he never knew just how much he needed McCoy until Chekov had lost contact with the doctor for a week aboard Enterprise. One week that could make this alternate universe theory grow wings and take flight.

* * *

Jim glances over the edge of the rock formation he and Sulu are perching behind in time to see Kirk point his phaser at the back of Uhura's head. It's like watching a live version of the chess games he plays with Spock back home, only instead of bruised egos at the end, lives are on the line. Jim feels ill seeing someone he considers a friend being treated so cruel by his hand. It makes him even more grateful to be able to go back to a universe where these people are his friends and not his enemies.

It takes everything Jim has to not leap over the rocks and rescue McCoy himself. He has to give Leonard credit for still being on his feet despite looking like he's gone twenty rounds with an angry Gorn. Every inch of McCoy's battered being is Jim's fault for not noticing him missing sooner and now that he's actually laid eyes on his best friend, he has to exercise patience and restraint; things that are not his forte under the best of circumstances. There's more than one fox in the hen house down there and both Kirk and Spock are willing to kill McCoy out of spite.

"We send the prisoners over at the same time," dictates Spock.

Except for the beard, the Spocks are rather similar. Vulcan neutrality does wonders for hiding a sadist streak and Jim wonders just what lurks beneath the carefully maintained surface of his science officer. He can see his Spock out of the corner of his eye behind another rock with his Uhura and still he can't look at these alternate versions and not think of them as his friends. His gut twists at the thought of McCoy waking up in this horror show of a universe to what he must have thought were his friends only to be treated anything but. He knows all too well suffering at the hands of someone who should have protected him and remembers how gutted McCoy was after his divorce. He'd gladly step on any landmine in Leonard's place to spare the doctor any of this.

Jim watches captivated as Spock lets go of McCoy but Leonard doesn't move, just stands there staring at Kirk. It breaks Jim's heart that his friend would have to fear him and can't imagine what's going through the doctor's head. He wills McCoy to move, to step away from Spock and go with Kirk so he's out of the line of fire. Once McCoy's in the shuttle, Jim and the rest of the away team along with Kirk's Scotty will neutralize Spock and then Jim can make his plea and case to Kirk to get McCoy back. He's prepared to take Kirk out too if it comes to it.

"What are you waiting for, Bones?" Kirk asks impatiently raising his phaser toward Uhura's back. If the whole thing is a trap and Spock's making his move, Kirk will kill them all: the Vulcan, Uhura and their sentimental weak counterparts.

"Proceed, Doctor," urges Spock, low and dangerous.

McCoy finally starts to move forward, settling a few of Kirk's nerves. He's never doubted McCoy before and maybe that's Spock's game after all, that every moment from this one forward, a little voice in the back of Kirk's mind will ask if that's really McCoy.

"That concludes our business," states Spock once Uhura reaches his side.

"It does. Till next time Spock." Kirk winks at the Vulcan before grabbing McCoy by the shirt sleeve to begin walking towards their waiting shuttle; Scotty covering them with his rifle the whole time.

"You alright, Bones?" asks Kirk. He needs to know exactly how much he needs to make Spock suffer before he kills him. Everything done to Leonard will be returned to the Vulcan tenfold. Mostly he just needs to hear the from the man himself that he's going to be alright.

McCoy smiles. It doesn't quite reach his eyes but it's warm enough. "I'm fine, Jim."

Kirk stops walking going rigid, tense and still. It's something so simple, so innocuous that no one else would notice but it's like a dagger through the heart to Kirk. Hadn't truly believed the imposter story until just this minute; secretly hoping it was a lie, away to get an agent close enough to make an attempt on Kirk's life.

Voice dark and dangerous, Kirk hisses, "Bones only ever calls me, Captain." When other's doubted his claim, McCoy believed in him. Leonard knew he'd rise above the others to earn his place in the captain's seat of the best ship the empire could offer and refuses to address him as anything less.

There's a look of betrayal on Kirk. His hands coil into fists as anger boils his blood. How dare the universe give him McCoy back only to snatch him away like he was never there to start with. How dare Spock try to pass off something in McCoy's place. How dare this lie stand before him like he has any right to wear that face and carry that name.

Kirk raises his phaser and turns back to Spock. "What the hell are you trying to pull?"

Jim's mentally counting the number of steps until McCoy is close enough to grab and pull out of danger when Kirk decides to light this place up like fireworks; a tentative plan going to hell in the space between heartbeats. He can only watch in horror as McCoy pushes Kirk out of the way of Spock's phaser and go tumbling to the ground out of sight behind an outcropping of rocks.

Jim's on his feet and running before Sulu can grab him and keep him safely tucked behind the rocks. Several security officers appear from behind Spock's shuttle giving aid to Spock and Uhura. The away team lays down cover fire as Jim fights his way towards McCoy. He's seen neither McCoy nor Kirk since they went down and Jim just prays the doctor's still in one piece. A desperate ache drives him forward, dodging phaser blasts and triumphing in bouts of hand to hand.

"Bones!" The frantic cry echoes off the cliffs that reach like gnarled fingers towards the sky. Jim pushes himself harder, runs faster to get to the rocks McCoy and Kirk are behind.

"Open your eyes you bastard!" he hears Kirk yell and the hair on the back of Jim's neck stands on end. It's the worst sight imaginable that greets him when he finally gets to McCoy. Leonard's prone on the ground rapidly losing blood like he has an endless supply.

"Oh god, Bones," whimpers Jim as he crashes to his knees next to McCoy, his hand going to the doctor's neck to check for a pulse. Kirk spares him a glance but otherwise focuses on keeping his hands over the wound and around the jagged rock protruding from McCoy's gut.

A moment of relief shoots through Jim as Leonard leans into his hand. McCoy's here, warm and solid under his hand. It does nothing to alleviate the fear that's threatening to strangle Jim. Self-incrimination wants to tear Jim apart like a wild animal and if he can just make good on his promise to get McCoy home alive, he'll let it. He can't have gotten this close only to fail. If he ever wanted his own legend to be true, it's now: Jim Kirk doesn't fail.

"Can't handle two of right now," whispers McCoy before passing out.

Jim squeezes McCoy's hand because Leonard has to know that Jim's here, he came for him, Leonard wasn't forgotten. McCoy's clearly fought like hell just to get to this point but Jim needs him to fight just a little bit longer, just long enough to get him home and help. McCoy needs to know he's not alone anymore.

Hands clamp down on Jim's shoulder and he tightens his grip on Leonard's hand. He'll fight to stay here, no one from this universe is going to tear McCoy away from him again. He struggles against the hands, trying to shake them loose as they make to move him to the side.

"Captain!" shouts Uhura in Jim's ear, snapping him out of his ironclad focus on the doctor. Jim looks up, surprised to see her. "Let Spock take a look," she says gently but firmly pulls him out of Spock's way as he kneels next to the dying man to run a tricorder over him.

"Get away from him!" snaps Kirk, like he's prepared to flay the Vulcan if he so much as lays a finger on the doctor.

"He can help," snarls Uhura right back. Spock isn't a doctor nor is his field of study medicine but out of everyone, he's had the sense to grab a medkit from somewhere. Out of all the senior staff that McCoy has routinely forced to attend survival first aid courses beyond the mandatory requirement, Jim can't think of anyone more capable than Spock to offer assistance in this moment.

Kirk looks like he's about to argue for a moment but thinks better of it under Uhura's unrelenting stare. She's vicious like a mother bear trying to protect her cubs and in the end they all want the same thing here: save Doctor McCoy. Kirk jumps to his feet; his violent energy demanding release. He needs a punching bag of flesh and bone and doesn't have to look hard to find his first victim wearing a red security shirt.

Jim rubs his hands over his face, trying to collect himself. He's not going to do McCoy any good if he's falling apart. He looks around a world that has gone mostly silent. Spock's security force is mostly dead and those unfortunate bastards that aren't that lucky are feeling the ferocity of Kirk's wrath. Spock himself is nothing more than a vanishing shuttle in the distance. It seems he and Uhura have escaped to continue their murderous rampage through the galaxy together. It's not Jim's problem. He needs to get McCoy home, he needs... "Scotty!"

"On it, Captain!" replies the Scotsman as he drags the portable transwarp transporter from the shuttle and begins initiating the sequence to program it to get home.

"Spock?" asks Jim, hoping for good news. He's never been more proud of his people and what they're capable of than he's been during this harrowing mission. Somehow they manage to eclipses their last impossible victory, rising to new heights and crashing through expectations like they were paper. Every single one of them has proven their mettle and why they deserve to be serving on the crown jewel of the Federation.

"There is nothing I can do, Captain. Doctor McCoy needs advanced medical help that I nor anyone here can provide," answers Spock without breaking concentration from his scans.

"Is he stable enough to transport?"

Spock looks up at Jim and it's written on the Vulcan's face. Jim would kill for Leonard's trained smiles and reassurances at this moment. "Uncertain."

"You're not taking him anywhere," states Kirk, phaser drawn mere millimetres from Jim's head. He's not going to lose McCoy. Real or doppelganger, he saved Kirk's life. They might not have the same history but that doesn't mean they can't have the same future.

"If he stays here, he'll die," says Jim calmly, though he feels anything but. He's not just talking about McCoy's wounds either; McCoy's a light that's far too bright for this universe, he'll smother under this universe's weight. He knows what's going through his counterpart's mind because Jim's willing to fight tooth and claw for McCoy too. If their situation was reversed, he's not sure he'd let Bones go either.

The phaser never wavers as Kirk replies, "I've got people who owe me favors. I'll have him patched up and good as new in no time."

"And what's the plan? He's not your McCoy, he's not from here. You're just going to convince him to be one of your harbingers of death? Cause this McCoy is a healer... down to his bones. Even knowing who and what you are, that the universe would be better off without a murderer like you, he still saved your life. Are you going to lie to him and pretend to be me and we're both stuck here? Cause that might work for awhile but eventually he'll see the darkness in your soul isn't some act to survive here. Are you going to betray him like that? A world like this is going to chew him up and spit him out, taking everything that makes that man our best friend with it. Are you telling me you're cold hearted enough to do that to him?" demands Jim.

Kirk looks from Jim to McCoy, pale and unconscious in the dirt of a planetoid that means nothing to anyone in an irrelevant corner of the galaxy. His sworn enemy is working hard to try and save the doctor's life. While he knows this isn't his friend, he wants so desperately for it to be true. He needs it to be true. If his doppelganger hadn't opened his damned mouth, he'd be willing to give anyone of those scenarios a try. Even a shadow of McCoy is better than nothing and he's willing to fight and cling to every scrap he can get, because in this universe and every other, he can count on McCoy to save his life. He owes it to Leonard to not screw him now.

Kirk lowers the phaser but grabs a fist full of Jim's shirt and pulls him close. "You better promise me you're going to take care of him."

Jim can see it in Kirk's eyes that there's no force in this universe that will be able to hold him back from gutting Jim if Leonard should so much as get a hangnail from this point on. Honestly, Jim's pretty sure he deserves nothing less for having McCoy been taken in the first place. Trust McCoy to inspire that kind of protection from a cold blooded psychopath. It's the one thing the two Kirks can agree upon wholeheartedly. "I promise," swears Jim and he can't think of anything he's meant more. "Thank you."

Kirk sneers at the gratitude but releases Jim. He stands there alternating between watching Spock do what little he can for McCoy while Scotty works to get them home, and the empty space Captain Spock's shuttle disappeared into.

Jim tosses the extra bracelet to Uhura to securely wrap around McCoy's wrist. There's minutes left but Jim has to know, "What are you going to do now?" He felt the loss of his best friend for six long days, he can't imagine what it would be like to know for certain that feeling was going to last forever the way his counterpart knows know. Jim still has the luxury of hoping they can get Leonard home and into the hands of Enterprise's skilled medical team and that everything will okay. He's going to hold onto that thought until, god forbid, M'Benga pries his hand from Leonard's cold lifeless one.

Kirk keeps his eyes on Spock and Uhura as they try and stabilize McCoy, like a guardian angel watching to make sure no mistakes are made. "Take my ship back. Head to Earth and get Joanna McCoy."

Uneasiness stirs in Jim. They don't have the time to save a Joanna from this world but McCoy would never survive hearing something happened to Joanna even if it wasn't his own. "You're not going to hurt her are you?"

Kirk is silent for a moment. "No. But she can stand next to me on the bridge while I destroy Vulcan." Danger flashes in his eyes and Jim shudders remembering the same determination he had when he promised himself he'd avenge Pike. Vulcan's going to burn, there's no doubt about that.

"You don't have to do that." There's still time for this universe to redeem itself. Jim knows Kirk has the ability to make it something worthwhile, something to be proud of. Better still, Kirk could do something that makes McCoy's sacrifice here today worth something.

Kirk looks back at McCoy and Spock's and Uhura's frantic efforts to save him with their limited field medic training and wonders if there was anyone that loyal and dedicated with his McCoy in his final moments. "Yes I do."

It won't do any good. There are few things that can get Jim to change his mind and one of them is dead in this world, but he has to try. "You can change things. There's no need for all this violence. You and Spock could make an unstoppable team." He's not sure he could bury the hatchet with someone that killed his best friend but past experience has proven he can form a shaky alliance with one for mutual gain.

"Don't tell me you wouldn't do the same," accuses Kirk. "You crossed over to another universe ready to tear it apart to get him back. The least I can do is tear it apart for revenge. Would you be my ally if I'd killed him?"

Jim thinks long and hard. In the end, the answer is simple and honest. "No."

Kirk smirks. "We're not that different after all. Just get him home and keep him safe. It's hard to find that kind of loyalty," he whispers before patting Jim on the back. With nothing more to do here he walks back to his shuttle.

Scotty swings his phaser rifle over his shoulder, looking rather smug about the carnage he reaped before following after Kirk. "A leopard can't change its spots," he whispers to Jim as he passes by, as though his faith in Kirk knew they were going to war and while Jim may try and pass himself off as something different, all roads lead to this outcome.

"Ready, Captain," shouts Scotty triumphantly bringing the portable transport unit over to where Spock and Uhura are still kneeling next to McCoy.

"Mr Scott," says Jim moving to stand next to his team, "get us the hell out of here."

* * *

There's something eerily familiar about the gentle buzz of background noise that manages to penetrate the thick darkness of Leonard's mind. It's comforting in its rhythm and there's a faint smell that's as welcoming to him as a bottle of brandy shared with Jim back home; he's in a medbay. It feels like home and he wants to wrap himself in this made up comfort for the rest of his days.

There's a throbbing in his head and things are a little fuzzy around the edges but the last clear thought he has is pushing Kirk out of the way of Spock's deadly wrath. There's some fleeting memory, more of a feeling really, that Jim, his Jim with the warm smile and cocksure grin had been there. A faint echo of someone talking about going home rattles around his brain but it's as elusive as trying to catch a ghost walking in the halls. He should be dead and he's not. There's no way death would leave him with this insatiable ache feeding on every nerve ending and muscle in his body. It's not agony, there're drugs in his system weighing him down and dulling the sting but they're not strong enough to remove the pain completely; only death can do that. Clearly Spock or Kirk aren't through with him yet.

McCoy cracks an eye open and groans as the light pierces his skull like a hot blade. It's a reminder of the pain this universe inflicts on souls for just existing and something McCoy's become all too familiar with. He goes to throw his arm over his face and block out the vengeful accusation the world is throwing at him, when his arm refuses to move. Alarm starts shorting out his brain, his breathing speeding up as realizes he's right back where this whole never ending nightmare began. Spock warned him about still being on the Enterprise. The sweet thought of freedom was nothing more than a cruel trick his mind was playing in him, having gotten on the same page as everyone else in this universe; if only his soul had gotten that memo too.

He's about to start struggling in earnest when he glances down towards his arm and finds a mop of blond hair. His arm's not restrained at all, rather Jim's head's laying on it. And it has to be his Jim because only his Jim would sit with him all night and risk screwing his back up by sleeping hunched over him like this.

He can't help but stare, but the more he does, the more he catalogues the lines of tension in Jim's face that form when he's under stress. He's sleeping which means Jim's exhausted himself and probably hasn't been sleeping or eating properly since Leonard last nagged him about either. If universal constants have remained the same while McCoy's been gone, the moron is probably sporting a few injuries under that proper command gold uniform of his, that medical doesn't know about. For the first time in he can't remember, he feels safe and whole. Leonard almost doesn't want to wake him up so he can savor this moment for all it's worth, but he needs his hand back if he's going to hold something to quench his parched throat.

"Jim," he croaks. It's so quiet, he can barely hear it so there's no way it's going to penetrate Jim's thick skull.

He tries again a little louder. "Jim." It catches in his dry throat and ignites a coughing fit that rattles his whole body. Jim's eyes snap open at the distressing sound and if Leonard could catch his breath he'd wave off his captain's growing panic. He knows he's caused his friend enough worry over the last few days.

Jim's heart starts to beat faster and he's sitting upright and sliding off his stool in an instant. "I'll get M'Benga."

"No," chokes Leonard and he shakes his head to make sure his point is made in the absence of his usual commanding tone. He doesn't need to be fussed over and he certainly doesn't want to be alone. If Jim walks out that door, even if it's just to grab one of Leonard's staff, there's a chance this could all be a dream and Jim won't be back. McCoy just wants to savor this. "Water."

Jim sits back down and pours a glass of water from the jug sitting on the side table. He pointedly ignores McCoy's scowl when he refuses to let Leonard try and juggle the glass by himself. "I can grab M'Benga if you want. He's just down the hall putting together his surgical report. Or Nurse Chapel if you'd rather. Anything you want, Bones, just name it."

The water is cool and perfect or perhaps it just tastes better because he's home. McCoy licks his dry lips. There's a thousand questions he could ask, some he probably should ask, like what's his prognosis and how the hell did Jim kobayashi maru his way out of this one but he's home, he's finally home and that's all that matters this second. "Nah. I'm good, I'm home."

His eyes start to slide shut, far too heavy to keep open, so he's definitely on drugs. He's just about to drift when a troubling thought stabs through his chest. He looks Jim straight in the eye, because no matter the truth, he needs to know. "I am home right?" The only thing worse than being stuck in that hell would be if he got Jim stuck there with him.

Jim squeezes Leonard's hand and he realizes that Jim never actually let go of it. "You're home, Bones," answers the captain with absolute conviction.

"Good," clips Leonard before settling back on his pillow. The tension drains out of his limbs and he soaks up the warm comfort of the Yorktown medbay blankets. "We'll talk about ya riskin your fool neck ta come get me from that hell hole later."

"At length," agrees Jim, the sparkle finally coming back to his eyes. "Once you're out of here. I look forward to it." For the first time in his life, he's actually looking forward to getting chewed out by McCoy.

"Jus ya wait... teach ya to do stupid things..." mumbles Leonard as he finally nods off to dreams that aren't bathed in blood and fear.

"Just sleep. I'll be here to make sure nothing happens," reassures Jim. Nothing in this universe is going to tear him away from McCoy's bedside.

* * *

**Epilogue**

**Two weeks later**

The view from his room is starting to get boring. The caged feeling isn't quelling his need to run away either. As grateful as Leonard is to be out of the other universe, alive, and back in his own, it isn't truly home until he's in his quarters back on Enterprise. He sure as hell isn't going to let Jim know he thinks of that flying tin can as home though. Since the ship isn't ready yet he'll settle for quarters in Yorktown with his stuff. The more analytical part of his brain whispers it's not his desire to escape medbay that wants him to run, rather the company in the room with him now.

He knows that Spock would never hurt him, and that the monster from his nightmares is another being completely but he can't stop the tremor in his hands every time Spock steps into the room. He knows Spock's noticed it too. The full blown panic attack accompanied by the screaming the first time Spock stepped into Leonard's hospital room almost two weeks ago was a dead giveaway that things can't just be swept under the rug.

If he has to white knuckle it around the first officer for awhile Leonard can tough it out. He's not going to let that pointed eared elf from the other universe steal the life McCoy desperately wanted back. If he can survive that world he can tread the murky waters here until he can get his feet underneath him and not panic when Spock steps into a room. He will be able to look at Chekov without guilt and quit rubbing his finger when he's around Sulu. The phantom pain across his chest will cease if he just keeps watching Chapel's gentle touches as she works to repair the scarred tissue covering his body. He'll stop waiting for Jim to pull off the mask of his best friend and reveal the massacring lunatic he read about back there. Leonard clings to these ideas with everything he has because, damn it he's a doctor and he can't do his job if he's twitching in a corner. He brought Kirk back from the dead and dragged Spock's wounded ass across a planet, he's got this.

"How'd you figure it out?" asks McCoy, straining to keep his voice as level and smooth as possible. He doesn't know if Jim's noticed the tremor today; he can't take his eyes off of Spock who is aware enough to keep his distance from the doctor whenever possible.

Kirk nods towards Spock who's lurking near the door instead of standing next to McCoy's bed. "Spock found the security footage that the other Spock thought he destroyed."

"It was an error that allowed us to track his movements to the transporter he used to beam you both back to his universe," elaborates Spock with as much warmth as a Vulcan can convey. He lacks Uhura's ability to provide reassurance and care with gentle words and touches but he recognizes his usual approach will not smooth McCoy's edges as of yet.

McCoy looks suspiciously at Spock. "Are ya sayin you made a mistake?" He'll have to file that gold nugget away for another day when he can joke and poke at the Vulcan with the ease they used to share.

"It was not I that made the miscalculation," corrects Spock, then adds, "and it does seem unlikely that such an error was simply an oversight, given the precision and calculations that would have been required to attempt such an undertaking."

Kirk sits a little straighter. He hadn't given it much thought then, only assumed that they had gotten lucky. "So he didn't think we'd be able to figure out how to rescue Bones, so it wouldn't matter if we knew what happened?"

"On the contrary, Captain. Given that the other universe had counterpart versions of all of us, he would have had sufficient data to calculate the odds of us figuring out the technology."

"He wanted us to find them?" asks Jim, because that seems like a tactical error and Spock doesn't make tactical errors like that.

"It seems the most likely outcome."

Whatever the larger plan might have been, it doesn't matter now. That Spock is a whole universe away with a severally pissed off Kirk on his ass. Kirk looks at McCoy gratefully, though the doctor is unusually quiet. "Well whatever happened, you're home now Bones."

McCoy's eyes drift over to the windowsill on the other side of the room where an over confident and smug Kirk beams back at him. "Are you home, Bones?"

Leonard ignores the hallucination and looks back at Jim. With a forced smile he agrees, "Yeah, home."

**The End?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super BIG thanks to everyone that read this and or reviewed. You make it worthwhile.  
> ** This seemed like the most logical point to end the story despite knowing that McCoy has a long way to go before his story really ends but what comes next would seem like two different sections if I kept it with this story as planned. So I guess that means it's sequel time.  
> The Darkest Clouds of My Soul Are on the Horizon will deal with McCoy's recovery from this twisted mirror universe.  
> I hope if you've enjoyed this one, you'll join me for the next one.


End file.
